


Sins & Sanctuary

by montes-carpatus (Carpathyah)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternative Universe - Good Omens, Angst, Based on Book & TV Series, Drama, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Romance, Self-Indulgent, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:40:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 22,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24500203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carpathyah/pseuds/montes-carpatus
Summary: Angela, Guardian of the Eastern Gate, and Moira, a Demon From Hell must work together to stop Armageddon from happening and starting the war between Heaven and Hell.Following events from the book and the live-action series with a personal twist.
Relationships: Moira O'Deorain/Angela "Mercy" Ziegler
Comments: 7
Kudos: 62





	1. The Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> Quite fitting.

The Heavens and The Earth came into being a bit past an early brunch and went straight to work. Of course, one couldn’t create the universe and everything in it in merely seven days, and therefore every angel had a task at hand. Some were put to create what we call the ocean and all of its residents, and some were put to build every single star that would illuminate the night sky.

God created the Garden of Eden, a paradise filled with every animal, every fruit and plant imaginable. It was quite a lonely place, and so God made man and named him Adam. God told Adam that the garden was all of his to explore and indulge in, except one tree. The tree of knowledge with its red, bright, apples was forbidden and there would be severe consequences if he ate the fruit.

Their last creation was Eve, a woman, made out of Adam’s rib. Together, they roamed the land in peace, until a serpent came slithering down from the tree Eve was sitting under and whispered in her ear. She gave into temptation and bit into the fruit. She passed it onto Adam, and suddenly they knew the difference between good and evil. Banished from Eden, Adam and Eve were forced to go into the wild on their own.

At the top of the east wall of Eden stood an angel in her pure white robes with her wings stretched out. She watched Adam and Eve walk through the desert. Her blonde hair was being held up by golden laurels in a high bun. Behind her she heard a slither, she turned to her left and a tall woman morphed from a snake. Her long, dark, orange hair followed as she stretched out her black wings. Her long black robes grazed the ground.

“That was quite an overreaction; completely unnecessary,” she hissed. Angela awkwardly nodded and her eyes lingered as she scanned the visitor. 

Their gaze was on Adam and Eve as they walked through the hot desert.

“I don’t know if you agree but there is no shame in knowing the difference between good and evil,” she continued, looking at the angel. Her serpent eyes were two different colours. Her left eye was a golden shade of yellow, her right was a deep shade of purple. 

“Well, it must be bad, or else you wouldn’t have tempted her,” the angel responded. She was nervous, standing so close to a demon.

She looked up to the sky to see some dark clouds begin to form over the East wall. She never noticed clouds a different colour other than white. They emitted an ominous rumbling. 

“It’s O’Deorain,” the demon introduced herself. “It’s been quite uneventful, came here to make a bit of a ruckus.”

“Of course you would, you are a demon. It’s what you’re meant to do.”

“Not very, subtle, of The Almighty to be putting an apple tree containing knowledge in the middle of Eden. There are so many better places to put such a thing such as the bottom of the ocean, or on the giant red planet.”

“You cannot speak against what has already been set into place,” Angela criticized. 

“Have you ever wondered what God is planning? I’m sure you’ve gotten at least a little bit curious.”

Angela sighed, “It’s not to speculate. After all, it’s all part of The Great Plan. We may not understand it, but it’s ineffable.”

“Ineffable Plan, huh.” O’Deorain reflected upon before noticing something was missing from the angel’s hands. She had seen her in the past welding a long object. “Don’t you have a golden staff?” she furrowed her eyebrows.

“Oh, yes...I do,” Angela mumbled, trying to keep a look on the exiles and the oncoming clouds. She put her hands behind her back to keep the demon from trying to look for more clues.

“Have you lost it? Surely, you couldn’t have misplaced such a hefty weapon of sorts.”

“I did _not_ lose it.”

"Then _where_ is it?”

“I gave it away,” she cleared her throat, not wanting to admit to her own doings. O’Deorain’s eyes grew as large as clementines. 

“You what?!” she exclaimed. Angela tried shushing her. O’Deorain was in awe at hearing the news. That staff was sacred. It was made out of the purest gold and emitted a hot flame at the tip.

“I gave it away! I couldn’t let her go into the world alone! She’s pregnant! I couldn’t let them go into the world without some form of protection,” Angela defended herself. “I just hope I didn’t do the wrong thing.”

“You can’t do a wrong thing, you’re an angel,” the demon tried to soothe her worries. Angela took a deep breath and smiled.

“Thanks, I’ll try not to stress about it.”

It left O’Deorain to think of her own actions. She looked over at the desert. Adam was shielding Eve from the lion with the golden staff. The roar of thunder was close by. They both looked at the gory scene with disgust as the staff cut through the lion’s head. 

“It’s been haunting me as well. What if I did the right thing by alluring her to eat the apple? What if it was the right thing to do all along?”

“Wouldn’t it be rather curious if we both got it wrong? You are doing the right thing, and I do the wrong thing?”

“Curious indeed,” O’Deorain chuckled. 

Drops of water began to fall from the sky and Angela brought up her wing to shield the demon from the new weather. She held out her hand and let the water droplets pool in her palm. It was cold. It was rain. The first rain to fall in Eden.


	2. the beginning of the end of the world

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moira is given the biggest assignment of her existence; to deliver the Antichrist.

When the task was put into _Moira O’Deorain_ ’s hands, she was reluctant. She had rolled into the graveyard in her black Rolls-Royce blasting a cassette of her favourite tracks. Her wavy red hair was pulled in a half-up-do style. Her contemporary all-black attire was a blazer and trousers with a slight peak of a silk button-up shirt. She hid her eyes behind designer brand round sunglasses.

“Already? It can’t be,” she remarked as the basket was presented to her. The baby was asleep, wrapped in black flannel to keep warm. 

“Yes. It is time, O’Deorain. You earned this.”

“It’s Moira, and delivering children was never my line of work.”

They scrunch their noses when she asked to use her _Earth-name_.

“This is the moment you've been waiting for. To distinguish yourself as the worst demon on Earth."

“You'll get recognition,” they chanted.

She was presented with a document and a flaming pen. She stalled, half-reading the small print. They grew impatient and in annoyance she signed the paper. The pen burst into flames and disappeared. She held the basket with a tight grip. The infant began to squirm.

“We’ve been waiting for this for centuries.”

“ _Clearly,_ ” she said.

“And you will be the tool that will ensure that the plan will go perfectly.”

“You will not be disappointed. I will be on my way. Gentlemen, have a pleasant night, ” Moira took a few steps back and waved goodbye to her fellow demons. She entered her car and sped off.

Moira was all for the world ending in Armageddon. The idea of the world burst into flames and turning into a pile of ash was art; to finally cleanse the world of its filth. However, there was a difference between imagining and executing. 

She admitted that the weight of her assignment accelerated her heartbeat and fogged her thinking. She began to enjoy her time on Earth. They appreciated her way of working, in comparison to her colleagues. 

The infant began to cry. Moira could not understand what it wanted but she wasn’t going to let it cry forever. She began to comfort it, brushing its cheek with her thumb. She tried to shush it, but she felt like her aura didn’t help. 

The music that was playing became a muffled beat of noise and turned into the imperial voice of Satan himself. 

“ _You earned it O’Deorain. The Spanish Flu was your genius doing. An absolute wicked idea.”_

“It was killer,” she shrugged as she tried to keep her eyes on the road, her ears on the radio, and her hand in the basket.

“ _Now, here are your instructions…_ ”

She listened numbly to the instructions of the delivery of the Antichrist. They seemed straightforward enough that she didn’t give her full attention to names or what the nun looked like. If they were aware of the plan, then she wouldn't have to work too hard. 

Lightning lit up the sky and the thunder rumbled as she drove to the convent. The rain poured down and her old wipers were barely able to keep up to clear the window. She carefully drove into the parking lot of the address. Before exiting the vehicle, she made sure the child was warm and protected.

“May you grow into something worth believing in, child” she wished as she created an umbrella and quickly ran through the rain and passed the basket to the nun waiting at the iron doors. 


	3. the new plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Archangel Gabriel pays a visit to Angela, and Moira comes up with a plan to stop Armageddon from happening.

“Here you go Angela, a Grande Pike Place roast with almond milk,” the male barista placed her cup on the table. She turned away from her book to thank him. 

“Is this seat taken?” a dark-skinned man appeared in the seat in front of her. She squeaked in fear as she turned to her old colleague. He was dressed in a pristine white suit and a long coat. His thick white beard and hair was well groomed. 

“Good morning Gabriel, what brings you here?” she asked, putting her bookmark between the pages. She really hoped that one day he would notify her ahead of time that he would pay a visit. 

“Oh, some important business,” he started. “Do you enjoy that?” he looked at her cup in disgust.

“It’s just a cup of coffee. It’s pleasant.”

“It’s what humans drink in the morning to aid them in waking up. “

“Yes, it is. If I’m going to be on Earth for long periods of time, I might as well try blending in,” she explained, despite it being close to dinner time. She wore her beige suit with gold detailing. Her hair was tied up into a pony-tail held in by golden wings. “Would you like me to get you a small cup?” 

He stopped her from even trying to leave the conversation.

“Angela, we must commence the planning for upcoming important events.”

She looked at him with furrowed brows and a straighter posture. 

“ _O’Deorain_ is involved in this. I want you to keep an eye on her, without getting yourself into trouble.” 

Angela loosened her shoulders. “I’ve been on Earth since the beginning, doing exactly that.”

“I know, and it’s a miracle that she hasn’t caught you yet. Stay on your toes.”

Angela nodded firmly. Gabriel smiled at her and got up his chair. He took a good hold of her shoulder and walked out of the cafe. She sat there and sulked a bit before taking a sip of her coffee and going back to her book. Her hands were clammy and cold; she dodged a bullet. 

She wasn’t expecting the phone of her shop to ring at such a late hour. She was humming away listening to her old vinyls. She walked over to answer it.

“I’m sorry, but we are closed tonight, we op-” she began.

“Angela, it’s me, Moira. We need to talk.” The voice on the other end said.

Angela’s heart jumped in her chest and forced her to swallow. She anxiously curled the line around her finger. 

“Yes, of course,” she answered.

“This is about Armageddon.” 

“It’s time, isn’t it?” Angela replied; exasperated. 

The next morning, the respectful individuals left their homes and made their way to St. James’ Park, the best place in London to plan a hush-hush meeting of any kind. It was large; it had a pond. There was always enough variety of people that anything strange would go unnoticed.

Moira, being the closest to the park, went to the same bench they’ve been meeting at for what felt like centuries. Angela showed up soon after and took her place next to her.

“Are you one-hundred percent sure it was the Antichrist?” Angela began. Moira was dressed in her usual all black attire; her round glasses hid her eyes. Her hair was shaggy, almost bedhead like. It grazed her shoulders. She sat casually in her place, looking at Angela as if she asked the dumbest question of the millennia. 

“Of course it was. I delivered the child myself. Not in the sense of a woman bearing a child, as I would never bear children,” she explained, showing with her hands that it was placed and not birthed. Moira went on explaining the plan, and who the Antichrist was given to in detail.

“American diplomats? What an appropriate choice for the end of the world if Hell wanted the earth to end in nuclear warfare!” Angela emphasized. “And then it’ll start The War.”

While Armageddon was the end of the physical World, it was the beginning of a war between Heaven and Hell. The War had been announced soon after the creation of Hell. It was to put an end to which side would conquer humanity.

“Heaven will win for sure,” the angel affirmed. 

In the distance church bells rang to signal the hour. Moira looked at Angela, who sat straight in her seat. She couldn’t help but grin in response to her enthusiasm. 

“You really believe that?” Moira questioned.

“Of course!” Angela firmly agreed. “Heaven will finally win their place. It’ll be wonderful. There finally will be peace on Earth.”

“Allow me to go off-topic, but how many artists do you have in Heaven? Artists that have marked eras? We have Beethoven, we have Picasso, Bach, Mozart. And who’s the artist you really admired in the seventies? Mark Rothko?” she listed.

“Their artworks are already archived with exquisite care,” Angela mumbled.

“Yes, but you’ll never be able to hear or see it ever again, Angela. You won’t be able to have your morning coffee with almond milk anymore. No more little quaint art galleries to visit. That is what you’ll lose if you win.” 

Moira rose from her seat and looked down at her friend. “We only get eleven years before it’s all over.” She began walking away. Angela quickly rose to follow her. “We have to work together,” Moira told her as she shoved her hands in her pockets. 

“Absolutely not!” Angela firmly objected.

“This is the end of the world. This isn’t a little favor like when I convinced you to cover for me in Dublin. You can’t say no!”

“Moira, no!”

“We can do something to stop this.”

“I am not following you on any of your diabolical plans.”

“I have an idea,” Moira exclaimed as they reached the black Rolls-Royce, who was parked in a no parking zone in front of the gates of the park. A police officer was writing a ticket. 

“I am not partaking in any of this,” Angela warned as she put her hand on the handle of the car, like it was a habit. 

Moira crossed her arms on the hood of her car and looked at Angela. 

“Let me take you out for tea? I still owe you one from-” she honestly did not remember.

“Budapest.” Angela completed. “1956.” The door unlocked and Angela entered the car. Moira took a second and went behind the wheel. She snapped her fingers and the ticket in the policeman’s hand burst into flames. He dropped the papers and tried to put it out under his shoe. Moira sped off to The Ritz, a usual spot for them to sit down and have lunch, or tea.

Angela put the last bit of her chocolate crepe in her mouth. Moira happily watched her finish her plate. She only had some tea herself and it had since gotten cold.

“Divine,” Angela purred as she took a sip of hot coffee. “What are you craving for?”

“Alcohol! Excessive amount of alcohol!” Moira declared. 

“I might have a bottle of old scotch, or a few bottles of _Richebourg_ wine I got as gifts during the 20s. I saved a few for some special occasions,” Angela said as they crossed the busy streets of London to go back to her shop/art gallery.

Angela’s shop was a mixture of an art gallery and a library. There was not a brick wall that wasn’t covered in shelves full of books or artworks. The room was lit with hanging spotlights from old cinemas. There were several mismatched armchairs and sofas around the shop, for the guest to sit down and read. There was an antique kettle for guests to make tea. There was a vinyl player with a good selection of obscure records to choose from. Their cardboard packaging was pristine and not used, as if they were to never age.

If you turned a certain corner in the shop, you would go through a curtain of glass beads that would lead to Angela’s studio. Her living space was minimal compared to the shop. Her bed sat under big windows with sheer fabric as curtains. A small kitchen was present, but rarely ever touched except for the mugs in the cupboard for tea or coffee. There was an old desk, with all her agendas and journals. She had even kept her textbooks from her medical degree.

As Angela searched for her keys, she told the demon, “Moira, I’m not helping you with this.” She pushed the door open, and blocked for a moment from Moira going in behind her, “This is purely social, you are a demon, and I am an angel. It’s not going to work.” Angela looked at Moira’s eyes, who she saw the faintest of her slits before letting her in. Moira snapped her fingers to open up the light as Angela took off her coat and hung it on the rack.

Angela took out her gold rimmed wine glasses and wine. Some bottles were half empty, some were never touched. A vinyl player played some classic Leonard Cohen. 

“Cheers,” Moira began and tapped Angela’s glass before beginning to chug. She raised her glass in return and began to drink.

It didn’t take the angel very long before the room moved around her head and she felt too hot. She untied her hair from its ponytail and undid the first few buttons of her shirt. Moira had taken off her sunglasses. The yellow light from Angela’s lamp glimmered in her mismatched eyes,

“I don’t understand your point,” Angela began, sipping on perhaps her fifth glasses of wine. Moira rose from her seat in an agitated fashion.

“The point is, the moon. Can you imagine something as large as the moon crashing into the Earth?” She pointed out the window to the moon. The moon was full and white. “Or the ocean engulfing the penni-penne-suela,” she hiccuped.

“The moon is not going to crash into the Earth! What conspiracy theory are you reading?”

“The sky’s gonna turn a bloody shade of red, and the stars are going to fall from the sky, and it’s going to turn dark. You and your possy will come down from your white fluffy clouds,” Moira lectured as she stomped around the room. Angela was trying to process all the information. She let out a chuckle.

“We're all posh feather dusters,” Angela slipped from her drunken mouth. Moira left a snort from her mouth before both of them started to laugh so hard their stomachs hurt. Angela wiped the tears away from her eyes from laughing so much. Moira cleared her throat.

“My point is, Angela, that once Armageddon ends, we’re going to deal with _eternity._ ”

“Eternity,” she repeated, her eyes were wide open.

“It’s not as dreadful as one might think,” Moira threw herself back down on the armchair, and gulped the rest of her glass. With a miracle, her glass was full again. “On the contrary, I heard The Almighty enjoyed re-watching Breakfast at Tiffany’s.”

“I am not enjoying the idea more than you are. The Earth coming to an end. I can’t do anything about it! I can’t go against authority, Moira. I’m an angel,” she blubbered, trying to get up from her seat without needing to grab onto something. “I’m too drunk for this. I’m going to sober up.”

Moira stopped sipping and sighed. “I guess, I shall too.”

Using their powers, the bottles refilled themselves and both Angela and Moira felt hungover. Angela took deep breaths as the nausea subsided and settled back in her chair. Moira grimaced as the taste of alcohol left her tongue.

“Even though I want to help stop Armageddon, I can’t go against the Divine Plan,” Angela retold Moira from her chair, she buttoned up the top button on her shirt. Moira sat across from her, pulled in the other chair closer. 

“There is a counter to those plans, the hellish plans, absolutely diabolical plans. Now, wouldn’t it be part of the grand scheme to oppose my influences?” Moira smiled, Angela was left with her thoughts. “Is it not part of your angelic duties to forgive one of sin?”

Angela cleared her throat and grinned, “It is my duty. Well, I aid the humans in making the right choice.”

“The Antichrist has been born on Earth,” Moira explained with her hands. “It’s the upbringing that’s important. A child will conform to its surroundings. I will bring maliciousness,” she explained. “And It would be such a shame if an angel were there to make sure the child does not succumb to evil.”

“Would be a shame,” Angela replied. She signed, Moira was right. “In this case, Heaven would not oppose to me taking on a personal assignment to sway the child away from evil.” 

“You understand my superior idea,” Moira cooed. Angela finally settled in her seat and held out her hand in a handshake. Moira took it right away and gave her hand a firm shake. The demon’s hand was slightly cold compared to Angela’s warm, sweaty grip. Moira changed her position and sat on the arm of the chair itself. “We’d be something along the lines of Godmothers.”

“If we succeed, the child won’t be evil.”

“Or good.”

“The child will turn out normal.”

“It just might work.”

“And we’d be Godmothers,” Angel grinned with excitement. She rarely embarked on Moira’s plans, but it was worth a shot if it meant they could stay on Earth just a little bit longer.


	4. and we'll be godmothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moira and Angela become Godmothers to the Antichrist.

The grand doorbell rang and at the door was a tall man in a dark suit. His eyes were covered behind dark sunglasses and his cheekbones were narrow, sharp, like the man hadn’t had a meal in months.

“I understand that you are in search of a nanny,” he spoke with a heavy Irish accent.

Only a few hours later, a young woman dressed in white overalls and a linen shirt presented at the door. Her blond hair was split in two long braids. In her hands, she held a basket of sunflowers. Her face was covered in light brown freckles from being in the sun.

“Hello! I was told you are looking for a gardener!” she proclaimed. Her two front teeth had a gap between them. 


	5. noah's arc

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moira and Angela witness an act of God.

“Good afternoon Angela,” Moira greeted in her long black robes, her bright orange hair cascaded down her shoulder and peeked out from under the loose veil. Angela was dressed in identical white robes.

“ _O’Deorain_ ,” she nodded in return. Together, they watched the animals two by two go up to the giant boat.

“So, how’s the 'giving your staff to some mortals', working out for you?” she teased.

“They asked once, and then never again. For the better I guess,” Angela sighed.

“Presumably,” she agreed. Moira looked over to what Angela was fixated on. Two by two, animals were being escorted into a large wooden ship.“What’s the meaning of all this? Rounding up a zoo? From what I’ve heard, God’s gotten a bit cranky.”

“A big flood is coming,” she choked. “A new start to humanity.”

Moira looked at Angela in disbelief. On the ship, Noah, his wife and children were safe with all the animals. 

“And what about everybody else?” Moira inquired. “They can’t be drowning everybody else.” 

Angela only nodded in return, and like Moira, she was also upset with the decisions, but it was part of The Divine Plan. There was nothing that could go against it. 

“What about the children? You can’t kill the children! You would only suspect such a thing from my kind,” she chided as her eyes looked over the children playing with the animals that were left behind. Her chest felt heavy, and anger pooled in the pit of her stomach. She couldn’t do anything to stop it either. 

“It’s the Divine Plan. They promise that at the end of the rain, the clouds, a rainbow will appear and bring peace,” Angela explained again. Moira groaned, she was already tired of hearing it. 

“There goes the unicorn,” Moira tapped Angela’s arm. Angela followed Moira’s gaze to the white horse with a horn on its head running in the opposite direction of the other animals. “Should I say something about it?” Angela shrugged in response; she was emotionally exhausted.


	6. the crucifixion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Be kind, he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for blood and violence.

Angela covered her mouth with her hands as they hammered the nails into his hands. Moira appeared and put her hand on the angel’s shoulder in comfort. The angel turned to look at the taller woman. Her gaze was filled with sorrow and doubt. Her pupils were barely visible .

“What did he say that got him in such a situation?” the demon asked firmly. Her grip on Angela’s shoulder was tight, causing some discomfort. 

Angela sniffled, “Be kind to each other.” She winced as the hammer went back down and a scream exited his mouth again. Moira grimaced. 

“Well, that’ll cause a riot.”

“Have you come here to tell me something, _O’Deorain_?”

“Oh please, don’t call me _O’Deorain_ anymore, not really my style,” Moira began. 

“What is it going to be? Caoránach? Morrigan?” 

“Moira, to put it simply.” 

The final cries left the man’s mouth as they raised him on the cross among the other prisoners.

“Did you know him?” Angela asked as she saw how shaken Moira looked as she stared at him heaving in the air and calling out for his Father.

“I spoke to him a few times, showed him all the wonders of the world. He was a carpenter from Galilee. He was very bright, compassionate towards other people. He only wanted peace.”

The sun set behind him, and Angela lingered for a long time. Her eyes looked like they were going to cry again at any moment but nothing ever came out. 

She reached out for Moira’s hand on her shoulder. Moira gave her hand a small squeeze. 


	7. ancient greece

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moira pays a visit to Angela in Athens.

Angels did not need to go to school. They were creators in their own right and therefore had all the knowledge they ever needed. 

Angela was one of the few women, and only angel, in Athens who went to school. She sat on marble steps, listening to an old man shouting in an auditorium about poetry, and astronomy. She scribbled notes on papyrus using a pen and some ink.

“Men can be such a bore.“

Angela turned to the woman in a long black peplos, similar to her white linen one. Her long hair was pulled back into braids; olive tree leaves circled her head. Tiny sunglasses covered her eyes. The angel’s hair was twisted and curled into a high bun. Her face was framed with some stray ringlets. 

“Shhh, it took a miracle to attend this class,” Angela shushed, putting a finger in front of her lips. Moira raised her eyebrows. It was quite particular to see an immortal being take such interest in human academics. 

Once dismissed, Moira walked alongside Angela down the brick path. 

“Poetry just sounds so beautiful and harmonic,” Angela explained as they walked through the markets. “Would you like a fig?”

Demons did not need to eat. It was useless energy. Moira was about to open her mouth to decline the offer when Angela had run off to pick out two.

“Just try it,” Angela urged as she held out the tiny dark purple fruit in her hand. Moira hesitated before taking one and taking a bite. It was sweet, and grainy. Angela was able to put the entire fruit in her mouth. Their fingers were lightly stained from the skin of the fruit. 

Moira could not stay for long, there was unrest in Sparta that called for her.

“Stay safe alright?” Moira slipped.

“You as well,” Angela replied almost instantly. Moira glanced over to Angela, who had stopped to stare at the shoreline. The wind picked up and the clouds darkened in the East.


	8. pompeii

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another disaster off the list.

Angela looked over the town with a heavy heart. Her lip quivered as the molten lava began to cool and harden. She could only imagine the people who died because they couldn’t feel, or hear the warning signs. 

“Quite a disaster indeed,” Moira spoke. “What has humanity done this time?”

“Sin,” Angela simply replied.

The sky was still a dark cloud of ash. The air was heavy, and their lungs hurt slightly from the pollution. Angela's white tunic had a layer of gray ash on it.

“Are you talking about all the erotica?” Moira questioned. Pompeii was known for their many paintings and literature around sex and the naked body. There was indulgence. The constant drinking of sweetened wine and honey. "Figured The Almighty already punished humanity from sex with Adam and Eve."

For Moira, it was an easy location to get her daily demonic deeds done. She tempted people into drinking until their conscience was blurry and they became angry, lustful, or a mixture of other sinful emotions. Blood has been shed because of her along the streets of Pompeii.

Angela felt a ball of guilt in her stomach for not being able to do anything, while letting it all happen as it should. She put her hand in a fist and wanted to scream. She didn't. She walked away from the scene.

Moira watched the strain in the angel's face. She could not blame her.

It was on the schedule.


	9. high middle ages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marrying the knight doesn't solve anything.

Angela, dressed in a long white gown, rode her horse into the forest. Her hair had grown out and draped down her back. She had decided it was the best she can do for the Kingdom she looked over. They were cursed with illness and famine. She was only allowed to do so many miracles before Gabriel told her she met her monthly quota, and how humanity will never learn hardship if everything was handed to them.

After all, she would outlive her chosen husband anyways. What was to an angel half a century of their time. She could close her eyes and it would be over with.

Her heart beat faster as she reached the point. The fog was thick and she could not see those who were coming towards her. She could hear the sound of horses galloping and metal clinking against itself.

“I present myself, my name is Lady Angela, I am here to find peace between the Kingdoms,” she shouted to the on coming knight. Lit by torches, a figure in black armor jumped off their horse and walked towards her. Their long cape swayed behind, dragging in the mud.

A dark feeling sent a shiver up her spine, the person in front of her was no ordinary human. She stood her ground. 

“Fancy meeting you out here,” the figure spoke. Suddenly, the voice triggered a memory. She stopped her horse and got off. She felt the chill of the earth under her soles.

“Moira? Are you under there?” she questioned. The figure took off their helmet and presented a woman with long red hair. Her eyes reflected the torches in their familiar yellow and purple hues. 

“Was I not what you were hoping for?” Moira hissed with a sly grin. Her armor was painted black and exaggerated her broad features.

“Of course not! I came out here to end the misery of the people in the kingdom,” Angela huffed.

“And I came here to bring that misery.”

“Well, if I bring peace and you bring whatever you usually bring," Angela waved her hand to Moira’s black knight outfit.

“It cancels each other out.”

“I could have not taken a horse through the damp forest at this hour, if I knew this deal would have brought me back to you.”

“It is very much not ideal, are you cold?”

“A little. I didn’t pick the best dress to wear. I wore it for looks rather than practicality. “ Angela crossed her arms. “Back to the topic at hand, can you just leave my kingdom alone?” She pulled the new shawl tight around her upper body. 

“Alright, but tell your king to stop implying that marriage would solve this,” Moira gestured to the other people in armor behind her. They seemed unruly and barbaric.

Moira was her kingdom's most controversial knight, yet, she was the King's favourite for selfish reasons. The kingdom was full of alcoholics, cheaters, gamblers, and murderers. They were at constant war with the neighboring kingdoms and this one was another to check off the list. When they were offered a beautiful young virgin as a potential wife to the knight as a sign of peace, Moira was unwilling but it would be an absolute killer in Hell if she did corrupt the girl. She approved to meet, but made no promises.

She was very surprised to see that the virgin was Angela.

No matter how tempting the offer was, she had to refuse.

“Of course, anyways, I’ll be off, don’t forget to submit the paperwork,” Angela reminded as she got back onto her horse. 

“You don't need to tell me twice,” Moira grinned before turning back to get onto her horse as well.

They parted their separate ways.


	10. baroque

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The show must go on, and the paperwork will be done.

“Look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under it!” The actor on stage recited in front of an audience of few. Angela watched the the actor with bewilderment, mouthing the lines with them. She had gotten her hands on some early scripts of the works and she had read them over and over again. 

“It seems I have walked into one of the darker works,” Moira commented, as she took a place next to the angel. Her black silk gown contrasted with Angela’s more voluminous white gown. Moira hid her eyes behind small, round sunglasses. Her hair was curled and cascaded over her shoulders. On her head was a large black hat, with a single feather. “No wonder we’re so few to witness it.” 

In comparison, Angela's gown was a perfect example of the current luxury with golden detailed pins in her own style. Her hat was much larger than Moira's and held many pale pink feathers.

“Shh,” Angela shushed as she lightly tapped Moira’s arm. “Here he comes.” 

“Good day young madams, I must ask, may you add some commentary to encourage my actors?” Shakespeare asked as he bowed in front of the women. 

“Of course,” Angela agreed. The man smiled and continued to direct his performers. Angela clapped loudly in encouragement. Moira could barely keep her eyes on the play, and instead watched the joy in the angel's face as she recited the lines with the actor.

“And does your friend here approve of the performance?” he asked when he noticed the demon's lack of engagement.

“My friend?” Angela realized he was talking about Moira . “Oh!" she exclaimed. "She’s not my friend! We are not on friend terms. We are barely acquainted."

Moira looked at her friend with a raised eyebrow. She found it a particular statement when they had been casually bumping each other since the creation of the Earth. But, she let the comment slide this time. The play went on. Angela saw how the actor was getting annoyed with Shakespeare and his style of directing. She lifted her gown and walked over to the stage much to Moira’s surprise.

“You are doing very well," She complemented the actor while Shakespeare directed another cast member.

“Back to the top!” Shakespeare shouted to him. She retreated back to her spot. She glanced over to Moira, who seemed to be barely enjoying herself. Her face was stoic. 

“Now, what are you here for?” she inquired to the devilish woman as Shakespeare continued giving a consultation. 

“I can’t enjoy a play without being interrogated?” Moira replied, putting her hands behind her back. 

“You are up to no good,” Angela accused. 

“Always am. And I assume you are here to do good?”

“I’m not in town for long, I must go up to Edinburgh in a few days' time,” Angela began. “I’m going to spend some time in the orphanage.”

“I’m up in Edinburgh myself later in the week.”

“Oh?” Angela wondered.

“Going to corrupt a priest.”

“Doesn’t sound like a hard assignment,” Angela commented as she crossed her arms.

“Mhmm, but what a waste of resources, having the both of us go to Scotland,” Moira dramatically implied. Angela caught on very quickly to Moira’s idea.

“That’s a terrible idea!” Angela firmly objected.

“We’ve done it before,” Moira reminded and Angela rolled her eyes.

“I can’t corrupt a priest, and you’re terrible with children,” she argued.

“Oh Angela, you know how it’s done. And I can be good with children if I’m forced to be,” Moira assured. “Heaven and Hell don’t care about how the paperwork is done, as long as _it’s done right_.”

Angela agreed with her and groaned out loud. Moira knew she was winning her over. 

“Hell isn’t going to be happy if they find out about these meetings,” Angela surmised. Moira paced herself around Angela. “They’ll kill you over it.”

Moira stopped in front of Angela and looked down at her. Angela had a concerned look on her face. 

“Hell doesn’t have to know about it,” Moira cracked a little smile. “So heads or tails?” She pulled out a coin out of thin air. 

“Tails,” Angela replied quickly. Moira flipped the coin and pressed it against the back of her hand.

“Heads, you’re going to Scotland,” Moira revealed and Angela looked at her in disbelief with furrowed brows. 

“Every single show has been a flop, how am I ever going to get people to come and see Macbeth? It’ll take a miracle to get anything going,” Shakespeare spoke out loud to one of the other guests. Angela looked up at Moira with big eyes. Moira stared back but she couldn’t resist to the little pout she was giving her. 

“Oh alright” she surrendered. “My treat.” Angela's face lit up and she hopped a little in place.

“Thank you Moira,” she sang. “I very much appreciate it.”

“I still prefer the comedies,” Moira said as she walked away. Angela grinned and stayed to watch the end of the play. 


	11. romanticism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela crosses the channel to Paris, and gets herself into trouble.

She had ordered her co-workers at the Louvre to hide some of the most valuable artworks as the violence escalated during the day. The fires were getting worse and the sounds of the falling guillotine became part of daily life. She was due to be in Versailles in the following days for an angelic assignment when the guards came for her.

They shackled her wrists and threw her in a prison cell. She sat on the small stool in the center of the space. Her beige gowns gathered around her legs and the bending of her bodice uncomfortably poked at her hips. She thought about how she would have to disappoint the people in Versailles. She would be unable to fulfill her assignment. She thought about her meeting with Gabriel, how he may not let her have her Earth body anymore.

“ _Bonsoir Mademoiselle_ ,” the guard greeted as he entered her chamber in a heavy Parisian accent. She shot up from the stool, tugging at the chain.

“ _Vous vous trompez, j'aide les Français. Je pars pour Versailles demain,_ she hurriedly said to him. “ _S'il vous plaît, laissez-moi partir._ ”

Despite her knowledge of the language, her accent was hard to cover. Her throat was dry from the dust in the cell and she tried to swallow the remaining saliva down as she stared at him in fear.

The sound of another guillotine falling echoed off the stone walls. 

“Your French is very good, however, we cannot have you here during a French Revolution,” He spoke, walking around Angela and inspecting her. He pulled out a piece of rope out of his pocket. “Now, let me see your neck so we can fit the guillotine and ruin that pretty dress of yours.”

“Do not touch me! How dare you try to discorporate me!”she screamed as he reached for her neck. As soon as he almost touched her neck, he was frozen in place. She looked at him in confusion and pulled as far away as the chain would let her.

“What a disgrace of a man,” a familiar voice said behind her. Her heart jumped to the sound of her voice. She had not seen her in a little while, and perhaps, she missed her demonic presence.

“Moira!” she exclaimed and turned towards the devilish counterpart. She was dressed in dark riding clothes. The buttons on her coat were red as blood. Her lips were brushed with a burgundy pigment. Angela tried to fix the front of her skirt as she feared she looked a little less polish for such a meeting. “It's never good news to see you.”

“What in God’s name are you doing here?” Moira fumed. “Aren’t you supposed to be tending to your shop in London?” 

“I was going to curate a show at the Louvre, you wouldn’t understand,” Angela defended. “The paintings, the literature, it’s all romantic. They all have such a soft soul.”

Moira knew the whole truth, after all, she knew Angela very well. “You let yourself be charmed into coming to Paris? And you came, during a revolution?”

Angela was embarrassed that she was so readable. “I knew it was going to be raucous in town. I didn’t think too hard about it,” she spluttered. 

“And your powers? Can’t you just miracle yourself out of here?” Moira asked as she gestured to the shackles around her wrists.

“My powers are being heavily supervised. I overstayed my welcome a little bit too long at my last assignment. I just wanted to make them happy. Gabriel had a stern meeting with me when I got back.” she sat back down on the stool in surrender. Moira walked out from the shadows and snapped her fingers and the heavy iron dropped to the floor.

“Aren’t you lucky that I am in the area?” Moira proclaimed.

“Thank you,” Angela smiled and then her expression changed. “Why are you in Paris, Moira?” she asked as she rubbed where the metal rubbed against her skin.

“I was given a big gold star for outstanding performance.”

“Are you telling me that this is all your demonic doing? People are getting killed!” Angela shouted.

“No,” she clarified, lifting a finger to the angel's lips. “This is not my work. The humans did it to themselves, and to be honest I am quite impressed.” 

Angela wasn’t impressed at all with her statement. “What are we going to do about him?” she directed to the frozen guard. Moira quickly came up with a plan.

“Are you able to hide your hair under a hat?”

“Of course I am.”

Moira switched their costumes. Angela was suddenly dressed in a blue coat, pants, and a red sash. She quickly fixed her hair under the beret and tightened the belt around her waist. The guard was now in Angela’s dress. It made Angela give a little chuckle as Moira unfroze time.

“ _À_ _la mort avec toi! Traître!_ ” Angela yelled as the rest of the guards rushed into the cell to take away the prisoner in time for the beheading. The guard was confused to be suddenly in a women’s gown. 

Angela and Moira quickly rushed out of the chambers and into an alleyway. 

“Thank you again for the rescue,” Angela whispered to the demon beside her. She made sure that the area was clear from any guards.

“Do not call it a rescue,” Moira hissed. “If I am ever caught that I rescued an angel, I will be in a lot of trouble.”

“Fine, but I owe you something. What if I treat you to lunch? Crepes maybe?” Angela offered and held her arm out. 

“I would love to stay and have tea, but I must leave you here. I have a meeting with the Queen,” she declined as she evaporated into darkness. 

Angela did not think too long about it as she began her journey back to the Louvre.


	12. realism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moira asks Angela for a dance, and a favor.

Angela indulged in a ball once in a while. She was a common name among the higher class as a distinct art and book collector. Her angelic beauty and independence was sought after by many men, but she had turned down all their marriage invitations. She was happy to tend to her shop on her own in between assignments. 

She was invited by a young gentleman who came into her shop one Sunday morning. He had shoulder length hair and a scruffy beard. His accent was not from an English town, perhaps from the colonies. They ended up talking well into the night about all the little things in life. While, she was a friendly figure to her guests, she usually hid in her office while they browsed the shop. 

“You are a joy to talk with Madam. May I offer you an invitation to a ball I am having the pleasure of hosting this coming Saturday?” he offered as they stood at the door. She pulled her shawl closer as the March wind was still crisp at night. He pulled out a piece of paper from his coat and gave it to her.

“I accept your invitation, Mr. McCree. I am looking forward to it,” she grinned in return. His deep, dark eyes twinkled in the candlelight of the streetlamp. His white button up shirt had unclasped at the collar, revealing more of his tanned skin. He smelled of fresh tobacco and firewood.

“I apologize for my rudeness, I never got your name in return,” he said as he placed his hat back on his head.

“You can just call me Angela.”

“Well then, Miss Angela, I wish you a good evening and I’ll see you in the near future.” 

“Goodnight,” she wished and she slowly closed the door. He leaned against the wood, clenching the note against her chest. She slowly opened the note and an address was written on the inside. The note had the address of a mansion. She had only an idea of where it could be. She quickly looked at herself in the mirror. Her hair was messily tied in a bun, and she had a feather behind her ear. She had thrown on the comfiest dress she had that morning, knowing she would be spending the day tending to her shop. She cursed herself for never being properly dressed for the right meetings.

The morning of the ball, she pulled out her nicest dress and adorned her hair in small delicate pearls. She applied some rouge to her lips. She heard galloping outside the shop, and took her cue that her carriage had arrived. She fixed the lace accents on her dress and wondered if the white gloves were too much, or not enough.

When she arrived, she noticed many of the other girls were coming in groups. She thought nothing much of it and then noticed Mr. McCree bowing to all the girls. She smiled, he seemed like the character to do so. From the top of the steps, she caught his eyes. He excused himself and quickly rushed to her.

“Miss Angela, I’m very glad to be seeing you here tonight,” he held out his hand to help her down the steps. She took it and carefully walked down with him. 

“I am delighted,” she grinned.

The evening continued on a positive note; Mr. McCree almost never left her side and introduced herself to people in the higher class. The luxury was tempting, but she knew that she was not one to be forced to remain dainty all the time. 

From the corner of her eye, she noticed a person standing tall in a black suit. They contrasted greatly against the pastel decor. She found it particular but thought nothing more of it until she spotted red hair from the back of their neck and prayed it wasn’t the person in question.

When the music started, Angela was quickly swept up by Mr. McCree in the first dance. They were fluid, smiling the entire way. She was floating. His hands were soft and his eyes twinkled in the candlelight.

“I apologize for the interruption, I would like to have a dance with the lovely Miss Angela here,” the tall figure appeared. They bowed. Angela went from being in a dreamy state to instantly annoyed. 

“Do you know them?” Mr. McCree asked her as he watched her face change.

“Unfortunately,” Angela replied. “Pardon me Mr. McCree.”

“It won’t be long,” Moira assured the young man.. Angela took Moira’s hand and got ready for the next dance much to Mr. McCree’s surprise. 

The other women and girls lined up beside Angela, while the other boys and men stood beside Moira. Some men glanced over to the tall, mysterious figure. The music started and they began their dance.

“I need to ask you a favor,” Moira started.

“It better be important,” Angela hissed. 

“I need insurance,” she continued.

“What kind of insurance?”

Moira looked at the people around her before taking the decision to say it out loud.

“Holy water.”

“What?” Angela exclaimed quite loudly. With no second thought she snapped her fingers and froze time around them, a trick she learned from Moira here. She let go of the demon's hand and stepped away. “I am not getting you holy water. _It’ll destroy you_.”

“It’s not what you think.” Moira began, trying to get the angel to listen to her reasoning.

“Moira, I’m not bring you a suicide pill. How dare you ask me of such a thing,” Angela raged on. “Unbelievable! Out of the question!” 

“Angela,” Moira shouted at the angel to listen to her. She took off the dark glasses to fix her hair. Her irises were thin and barely visible. “It’s not what you think,” she repeated. 

Angela was not afraid of the demon’s threatening body language. “I risk so much standing here with you. If they ever find out with whom I’ve been consorting with, I will be in so much trouble.”

“Oh?” Moira cried out. “And what are you doing here Angela? Consorting with men at a ball? I’m sure _they_ are pleased with you!” she pointed at the ceiling. Angela stood her ground as she felt a sharp pain in her chest.

“The discussion is over Moira, this is it,” Angela growled, and for a second Moira thought she saw pain in the angel’s eyes. 

“Fine, I don’t need you,” Moira gave up on trying to get Angela to understand

“I don’t need you either,” Angela shouted. They looked in each other’s eyes for any final words, but there was none. Time resumed and the dance ended. They went each their separate ways. Moira stomped out of the hall and Angela went to see Mr. McCree.


	13. abstraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moira comes to the rescue, again.

She felt like there was no end to misery. As one world war became a second, and a global pandemic to top it off, she was drained mentally and physically. She had assignment after assignment sent to her. She did each and every one with all her power and energy. She could not save them all, but she would die trying.

During a night of the usual bombings that occurred in London, she stood in a Protestant church with a suitcase in her hands with some of her most precious works and a book or two. She was trying to negotiate with some Nazi spies for protection; sanctuary to the local hospital. She thought she was going to get at least some peace if it meant she can take care of the injured and sick without worrying about a possible raid or bomb to cause more fatalities.

To her surprise, it wasn’t going as planned; one of the spies pulled a gun on her so they could get rid of her and take her suitcase. Angela stood her ground; it wasn’t the first time she stared discorportation in the face. 

“I can’t believe it,” Angela murmured as she put her hands up. One of the Nazi men took her suitcase from her feet.

“Any last words Dr. Angela Ziegler?” The Nazi spy asked as he prepared his pistol.

“Wait! Don't shoot!” a woman’s voice called out from the back of the aisle. “Ouch!” Moira appeared in palazzo style pants and a suit jacket. Her shoes gave a little tap as she tried not to touch the floor. Her hair was styled in big curls; pinned back with hair clips. Her lips were painted in a dark maroon colour.

Angela felt a big wave of relief wash over her as her demonic counterpart tip-toed down the aisle. Her shoulders relaxed but her heart expressed the opposite.

“It’s like walking on hot rocks,” Moira breathed in pain. She tried leaning onto one of the pews but it burned her hand as well. 

“What are you doing here Moira?” Angela asked in a low voice over her shoulder.

“I’m here to get you out of trouble. Also, Ziegler?” Moira hushed, questioning her choice.

“You don’t like it?” Angela pouted.

Moira hopped in place to keep her feet from heating up. “Just going to take some getting used to."

“Moira O’Deorain,” the Nazi roared. “How good to see you.”

“Oh! So you know each other! I should’ve known _this_ was all your doings,” Angela accused as she put her arms down.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I have better morals than a bunch of Nazi spies running around London murdering innocent people,” Moira assured with a wave of her hand.

“Ms. O’Deorain, it’s sad that I will have to kill you as well,” the person with the gun moved it in her direction. Moira stared at Angela while she came up with an idea on the spot. Angela's eyes were filled with fear as either of them, or both, were risking getting discorporated on the spot.

“In one minute a German aircraft will fly over us, and drop a bomb right on this church. So I recommend you all start running quickly, or the afterlife will be very grim,” Moira warned. “It will take a miracle to survive it.”

“Just shoot them both!” the leader shouted, tired of the duo stalling.

Moira snapped her fingers and there was a hissing sound coming from above. Angela’s heart dropped into her stomach and she couldn’t move. The walls caved around them from the bomb. Her ears rang in her head as the explosion came to a halt.

There was no hair out of place when the smoke cleared. Moira stood gracefully on some rubble and cleaned her sunglasses with a handkerchief before slipping them back on her face.

Angela cleared her throat. “Thank you Moira. If you weren’t there, I would’ve been discorporated. You saved me."

“Oh please, don’t you start with your compliments,” she bashfully replied.

Angela gasped. “The drawings! Those were one of a kind sketches.” She was convinced that it was under the rubble, and was prepared to move the bricks in hope of finding it.

Moira presented to Angela the suitcase she was looking for. “A little demonic miracle of my own.” Angela took the case, brushing against Moira’s hand. All her blood rushed to her cheeks as her heart fluttered in her chest. Angela couldn’t help but grin ear to ear as she watched Moira wait for her at the end of the rubble.


	14. pop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela offers a token of peace.

Moira ended the conversation with the strange young man from the meeting. He spoke of witches and an army. She didn’t listen and only spoke to acknowledge his existence. She fixed back in place the curly strand of hair that the gel didn’t seem to hold perfectly. Her round sunglasses reflected the neon signs that surrounded her. Her fringed leather jacket gave an almost inaudible squeak as she moved. Her bell bottom black pants were tailored to her long legs and gave the illusion that she was just a tall shadow.

She pulled the handle on her car and sat in the driver’s seat when she suddenly felt an ethereal figure sitting to her left. She turned to see her counterpart. 

Angela had grown out her blond hair to almost her waist. It was sleek and straight. Proper. Moira couldn’t help but glance downwards to her short beige skirt and matching knee high boots. Her matching turtleneck was tucked at the waist. 

Moira took a slight pause when she began to speak, "What are you doing here, Angel?”

“We need to talk,” she bluntly answered. Her lips were painted a pale pink colour. 

“About what?”

“Moira, I work in Soho. I have ears, and I hear you are setting up a malicious plan to rob a church,” Angela began, her tone harsh like a mother scolding a child. “It’s too dangerous. Holy Water will not only ravage your physical being, but you as well. All of you.”

“I heard your opinion fifty years ago, you don’t need to repeat yourself.”

“You will hear my opinion again,” she replied sternly. “I can’t risk losing you.” She reached into her crossbody bag and pulled out a thermos. “Take this, and call off the robbery.”

Moira’s heart skipped a beat as she reached out her hand to take the thermos, “Is this Holy Water?”

“The Holiest,” Angela confirmed. Moira stared at the thermos in disbelief. She had been planning the robbery for decades. She just needed to find the right time to execute it. Yet, everything had crashed down in the best possible way.

“Would you like me to thank you?” Moira asked as she looked at the angel. She looked stiff, stressed, and barely smiled.

“No, it’s fine,” Angela refused as she played with the hem of her skirt.

“Would you like me to drop you off anywhere?”

“No,” she refused again. Moira was at a loss on what else she could offer her to return the favor. She was almost pouting, wanting a response from Angela. “Oh, don’t look so disappointed. Maybe someday we’ll go for tea, or a nice dinner at the Ritz.” She fixed the strap on her shoulder.

“I’ll bring you anywhere you want to go, just tell me,” Moira desperately tried to hold onto her, even for a little longer. Angela looked at her with the biggest blue eyes she had ever seen; she could swim in them for eternity.

“You go too fast for me Moira,” she said and pulled on the handle to get out of the car, leaving Moira to interpret the words how she wanted. Moira sat in silence as she inspected the thermos. She was tempted to open it, but didn’t, instead placed it safely in her glove box.


	15. and we'll be godmothers II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela comforts the AntiChrist, and gives a flower to Moira.

“Mother Angelina,” the young child shouted as he ran into the arms of his favourite gardener. She was in the front yard, taking care of the flowers she grew. She planted some white daffodils and flax. At the sound of the child’s voice she removed her gardening gloves and put down her little shovel. 

“What’s wrong Genji?” she asked as she pulled the handkerchief out of her overalls to dab at the tears on his face. 

“Nanny Griffin, he said that being foul is the only way to get things to be done my way, and I tried it on mother and she wasn’t very happy,” he sniffled. 

Angela sighed, “Did you apologize?”

Genji shook his head no as she dabbed at his cheeks. She pinched one of his cheeks softly.

“Apologize. Speak from the heart, from love, my young child,” she pushed aside a strand of black hair that fell out of place. Moira had gelled his hair into spikes. “Would you like me to have a little chit chat with Nanny Griffin?” Angela offered as perhaps that Moira had gone a bit too far for once.

A little smile crept onto his face. Angela smiled in return and kissed his forehead. In her hand, she appeared with two yellow tulips. “You give one to your mother, she will adore it coming from you.”

“Will you give the other to Nanny Griffin?” the child asked. Angela looked at the flower in her hand. She might as well not waste it.

“Of course,” Angela agreed as warmth tickled her face.

Genji held onto her hand as they walked back to the house. Moira was sitting in the shade away from the sun, reading a book. As always, her eyes were hidden away behind a pair of sunglasses. They were not affected by the heat, however, their sleeves were neatly rolled to their elbows, exposing pale skin. They have switched a coat for a vest with red buttons.

Moira looked up from their book and saw Angela. Her temporary form was hard to miss. Genji had let go of her hand and ran towards the Nanny. The sprint made him out of breath. 

“Hope you have a good afternoon Nanny Griffin,” he wished before running into the house. A bit confused, they looked at Angela. Her knees were stained green from being in the grass. They stood up from their seat. Angela had formed round pink cheeks and crooked front teeth. 

“You make children cry,” she accused, breaking character for a moment.

“Not more than the usual,” Moira replied as she adjusted their suit. Angela held out the yellow tulip. Moira was confused by her offering.

“Genji wanted me to give this to you. Kindness will overcome the darkness," she said with a grin. Moira took it and put her nose in it and it smelled like Angela; floral, with a hint of vanilla. They awkwardly stood in front of each other, trying to think of something clever to say before they continue with what they were doing. Angela could smell the muskiness of their cologne. She thought that their attire was quite sophisticated but did not want to admit it to her.

“That is very _angelic_ of you,” Moira broke the silence. Angela giggled and took it as a cue that she can go back to gardening again. Moira had gone back to her book and kept the tulip in the front pocket of her vest.

It never died. 


	16. bandstand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They are on different sides.

She picked up the ringing phone in record time. She had been waiting for the call for what felt like a century.

“Moira,” Angela answered sharply.

“Meet me at the Bandstand,” Moira simply ordered. Angela knew exactly the location she was talking about. She hung up the phone without further inquiries. She took her coat off the designated hook and ran to the bandstand. 

The bandstand had changed over the centuries. It was once a small church, and then a pub. It was shortly a garden until they built it into the park. Angela’s internal compass knew the location by heart, despite the changes overtime. They had shared many encounters there.

Moira was already there, her hands in her pockets and her short hair disheveled from stress and panic. 

“Do you have any news?” Moira greeted. 

“News about what?” Angela asked, a little out of breath from the power walk.

“The Antichrist! His name, address, phone number!” she shouted, impatient. She walked back and forth, anxious. She wanted answers and it wasn’t going to come from the sky. Angela had witnessed many outbursts but Moira seemed extremely unsettled from not being able to get the information she needed. “This bloody, God-forsaken wretched Plan!” 

Hearing Moira swear she mumbled, “May you be forgiven.”

Moira stopped pacing and turned an evil eye towards her. Angela stood her ground, she admittedly was a little afraid at that moment. She never had seen Moira so vocally angry.

“No, I may not be forgiven, not now, not ever,” Moira pointed a finger at her. “I am a Demon. Forgiveness does not exist for us.”

“You were an angel once Moira,” Angela reminded. 

“That was long ago,” Moira replied, walking up to her. “We find the child; I know people who can hunt for us.” 

“And then what?” Angela asked. “We kill him?”

“There is no other option.”

“No! Moira, I cannot kill children. I am an Angel of the Heavens.”

“I’m not killing a child either,” Moira argued. 

“Who else is going to do it? If you do it, at least it’ll be easily excusable, compared to Heaven getting blood on their hands,” Angela crossed her arms in disagreement. Moira raised her eyebrows. It was the biggest bullshit she had ever heard. She walked up to the angel and leaned down to look at her right in the eyes.

“Heaven not having blood on their hands? Oh may I recount all the times I witnessed blood being spilled by the hands of those whom you call Holy.” 

Angela swallowed as she thought about a rebuttal, but she did not want to add the fire.. “Moira, I am not killing an innocent child,” Angela tried to keep her tone down in the case that someone is listening. Moira looked down at her with rage but held it back. 

“I’m done, I can’t keep having petty arguments,” Moira put her hands up and stepped back. She felt the feral animal inside of her awaken to the frustration. 

Angela surrendered, there was no way getting through to her without breaking a sacrament. “I am done as well. I won’t partake in this conversation any longer.”

“Fine!” Moira shouted as she turned to walk away from her.

Angela’s heart dropped to see her leave angry like that. She was sure they could work something out better. 

“Wait! Moira! There isn’t anywhere to go,” she shouted.. Her mind filled with regret and fear for what could become of them when the earth burned to a crisp. She needed Moira to stop The Ineffable Plan.

Moira stopped in her tracks when she heard the little cry in Angela’s voice. That woman could make her do anything if she could. 

She turned to face her again “We have so many places to go but here, Angel,” Moira began. “The world can burn, but we can go off into the stars.”

Angela thought briefly about it, and momentarily it would make her happy, but she couldn't follow.

“ _We_? Moira, there is no _we_. We cannot go off together. You are a Demon and I am an Angel. We are on opposite sides of this universe,” Angela tried to reason.

“Our side! This is our plan!” Moira reminded her that they were alone in this, and they were going to get no help from higher up or lower below. 

“Listen to yourself,” Angela begged. The entirety of this plan was getting more and more unreal. She had thought of all the times she had signed in Moira's name on the paperwork, to switching to Unholy practices to fulfill the assignments. She had never really thought about the consequences of getting caught. She was selfish to think about herself, but the sheer dread of having to face God and then having the halo ripped from her head. She couldn't think of the punishment. It would be morbid.

Moira was a demon. She had manipulated her to do her own demonic assignments. She had brought misery to the world. It was who she was made into.

She would be the reason she would become a demon too.

“I am not supposed to be standing here with you. I can’t keep on doing this! It’s over!" Angela cried.

Moira was left heartbroken. “Oh, right. Well then, I’ll be on my way. Have a nice Doomsday!” she surrendered and walked away, leaving Angela on the brink of tears.

Angela watched for a little while longer, hoping for Moira to turn back. She never did and Angela slowly made her way back home. Shoving her hands in her pockets, she felt the piece of paper with the name of the Antichrist. She pulled it out of her pocket to re-read the information.

_Hana Song._


	17. devotion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela asked Gabriel if anything could be done to delay or cancel Armageddon.

“Gabriel!” Angela shouted. It was hard to miss him as he jogged down the path. He was in his gray sweat pants and white t-shirt. His white hair was pulled back into a bun. The sweat on his dark skin glimmered in the sunlight. 

She picked herself a beige jogging ensemble and jogged beside him. She had some issues keeping up with him; she was more of a yogi person herself.

“Hello Angela,” he greeted with a grin on his face, showing off his perfectly white teeth.

“Gabriel, we have to tell,” she pointed to the sky, “The Man Upstairs, that there have been prophecies that will start soon. Like the giant squid emerging from the ocean and Atlantis finally coming back up.”

Gabriel chuckled and checked the watch on his wrist. “We are right on schedule. Those things are supposed to happen.”

“No, but, is it possible to go on with this without the raging war at the end?” she asked.

Gabriel stopped jogging. Angela was out of breath and clenched her knees to regain composure.

“All these occurrences will lead up to Armageddon. There is no stopping the timeline,” he sternly replied.

“Yeah but, is there anything that we can do?” Angela begged, wiping her forehead from the sweat.

“Yeah, we can fight. C’mon Angela,” he nudged her shoulder. “You’ll do great. Just need to do a bit more cardio.” He gently poked at her exposed stomach. He started to jog again and Angela kept trying to catch her breath.

“Hey,” Gabriel reappeared in front of her. It made her heart jump up into her throat. She hated when he did that. “On file it says you have a sort of flaming staff?” He heart dropped down into the pit of her stomach. She had to answer quickly.

“Oh yeah! It’s somewhere, don’t worry about it,” she grinned.

“Great! It’s going to be very useful during the war.”

She watched Gabriel jog away once again. She had not the slightest idea of where her staff was, and in whom’s hands it was in. It was indeed somewhere. 

There was no convincing Gabriel otherwise. His devotion had no distractions. She had to come up with a new plan to have at least some help from Heaven to see that humanity could be saved and there was no need to fight.

She placed her hands on her hips and watched Gabriel disappear into the horizon.

 _“Fuck._ ”


	18. to the stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela tries to talk to God.

She was hard to miss in a crowd; dressed all in warm tones of beige and her blond hair put up in a messy high ponytail. Moira pressed hard on the breaks as soon as she saw her. She quickly got out of the car, almost tripping on herself.

“Angel!” she shouted to get Angela’s attention.

Angela’s thoughts were broken by the sound of her voice. She turned to see the same demon that abandoned her at the bandstand. She was a bit cross at seeing her sudden change of tone. 

“Moira, what are you doing here?” she asked.

“Listen, I’m sorry for what I said. I’m sorry. I’m sorry what I said at the bandstand. Ok? Now please, get in the car,” Moira begged, practically going on her knees in front of the angel.

“No, I’m not getting in the car. What is the meaning of this?” Angela crossed her arms. 

“Hell has found out it’s my fault, and we need to run. We can disappear into the stars! So into Polaris or the Milky Way!” Moira shouted, dramatically gesturing to the sky.

“Are you out of your mind? We can’t just run from this. Just, give me some time. I’ll figure something out. I just need to contact the right people.”

Moira put her hands down. “ _ Angel _ ,” she croaked, there was no way to get through that stubborn head of hers. “There aren't any right people. No one is going to listen to us.”

”I am arranging a meeting with,” she looked around her in case of an intruder. “God.”

“What?” Moira exclaimed with furrowed eyebrows. “No, you are out of your mind if you think you’ll be able to sit down for tea with God!” she paced. “How can you be so intelligent and clever, but so dumb?”

Angela held saying anything vile in return. if only she could kick and scream as well for all the ludicrous ideas the demon had that she accompanied on. 

“I forgive you,” Angela said instead. Moira looked at her in disbelief. There was no way to convince her otherwise. She had to be the true voice of reason.

“Forget it,” the demon scowled. “I can do this on my own. I’m going to pick up my things and once I am in the stars, you won’t ever cross my mind!” she shouted from her car before driving away.

Moira had abandoned her yet again. There was no time to be distracted by the sudden feeling of emptiness again. She had to continue with her plan.

Talking to God was no easy task; it took a lot of salt. She drew the emblem on the floor to the best of her artistic abilities (they were pretty good, from what Moira told her during the Renaissance). 

She almost forgot she needed some candles and searched the entirety of her shop for candles. She found some and quickly lit them and placed six in equal positions around the circle. She spoke the words to communicate with Him. Nothing. Not even a busy tone. She tried again and this time a white light

“Hello there,” the ghost spoke as she sipped on her cup of tea. Her long hair was braided to the side and she had an eye patch. She was one of the oldest angels in Heaven and it was expressed through the body she had chosen for herself. Her face expressed wisdom and knowledge.

“Hello Ana,” Angela began. “Would it be possible to have a conversation with God, it’s very urgent,” she asked shyly. 

“Whatever you say to me will be transferred to God.”

“Is there any way that I may by-pass you?”

“No. Speak your mind,” she said sternly.

Angela heard the door knock and a voice outside. She had to be quick and she had no choice to talk to the woman.

“I found the Antichrist. The child.”

“Well done.” 

“So, now that I found the Antichrist. Is it possible to, perhaps, annul the war between good and evil? We can not turn the water into blood? We can save the world.”

“Oh dear, there is no point in avoiding the war, the point is to win it.”

“Right,” Angela replied, defeated. “And how will the war start?”

“We thought about nuclear war between nations. Quite simple but effective,” she chuckled. “Now, are you ready to come up and take your position, Angela?”

Ana held out her hand. Angela stared at it. She was Guardian of the Eastern Gate. She was made by God into a roll of protection and military; to defend all evil that could inflict harm onto the Heavens. 

“In a moment, I have to finish some things on Earth and I’ll be right with you,” she nodded with a fake smile.

“We will leave the gates open for you,” Ana concluded and disappeared into the darkness. Angela felt heavy; exhausted. Moira was right, she was so dumb to think that her plan would work. The Heavens weren’t going to take advice from her either way.She was only a Guardian among thousands of angels. 

She would have to stand up and defend a new army, or do this herself.

Her next thought was to call Moira. She had to apologize for not believing in her.  They needed to work together.

“Moira! Please, answer. I know where the Antichrist is,” she began. It fell on voicemail. Angela groaned. She searched for her address book. Pages and notes were stuck and added. The paper was yellowed and the ink in some places were very well worn. She had the little journal since the invention of the telephone. 

Moira had a tendency to change numbers over the years to make sure she didn’t seem suspicious to the landline companies. Angela had crossed them out as they changed. There were pages and pages of phone numbers, some only varying in a digit or two. She had come to the latest one and dialed it. It rang.

“I beg, Moira, pick up,” she mumbled. It fell on another but different voicemail by Moira. “Moira, please, pick up, I know where the Antichrist is!”

“Hello…” her voice trailed off when she picked up the phone. There seemed to be a lot going on on the other end of the line. There were sounds of another person in the room. 

“Moira, are you well? Are you alone?” Angela asked, trying to make sense of the noise. 

“Yeah, it’s not a good time, I’ll call you back,” Moira quickly replied and hung up on her. Angela was going to scream from frustration when the door opened violently. 

Mr. de Kuiper, the head witch hunter, stood in the entrance of her shop. He was disheveled, and dripping wet from the rain storm outside. He must have overheard her speaking to Ana, or her conversation with Moira. 

“You foul, evil temptress!” the old man shouted.

“Sergeant de Kuiper, now it’s not a good time. Don’t come close.” She tried to calm the man. She was at the end of her wits, and her patience to be kind and polite had run very thin. 

“You demon, enticing men to do your bidding,” he accused, shaking a finger at her. 

“Oh, you have the wrong shop,” she corrected as she tried to get him to not go into the circle she made. “Don’t  _ you dare _ step in the circle, it is still activated.” He was a tall-large man compared to her small frame. She held her arms out to block his path, trying to keep up with his steps so he wouldn’t come any closer.

“I’m going to exorcise you from your chosen body,” he chanted as he searched in the pockets of his old suede gray coat. He began saying a hymn she never heard in Dutch. 

“I’m not a demon! You’ve got the wrong impression,” she insisted. He pulled out a lighter and began saying a hymn. She tried to blow it out but he held it too high for her to reach. A beam of light appeared over her head and she felt the pull. 

“Shit,” were her last words as she was transported to Heaven.

As Mr. de Kuiper realized what he had done, he quickly made his way out of the shop; tipping over a candle and lighting the curtain on fire.  Quickly, the curtains became the bookshelf and eventually, the entire shop. 


	19. flames

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moira believes she had lost everything.

Moira settled on a location on the outskirts of London. Her apartment had a distinguished minimalist approach to her home decor. Nothing was ever out of place; no dust accumulated on the furniture or spider webs in the corners. There was food in the fridge, however, it was never touched, nor would it go spoiled. She had a wall just of books. Books of scientific advancement and theories, anatomy and microbiology. She had a few particular books passed onto her by Angela; who was more interested in philosophy and the arts. She kept them neatly on a shelf of their own.

The windows stretched from the floor to the tall ceiling and lit up the entire space when the blackout curtains weren’t pushed aside. The sun would shine through her custom made crystal chandelier and create stars on the walls. An homage to simpler times. However, the English weather would only make it dull. 

She sat anxiously in her obsidian throne as she pressed the button on her answering machine. She tapped her long nails on the marble desk as she listened to her angry co-worker on the other end. 

Delete.

She listened briefly to the next one.

Delete.

She heard a car stop outside her apartment. She breathed through her nose and opened the drawer in her marble desk. She took the gloves and pulled them over her hands. She walked to the vault in the wall and opened the lock.

She held the thermos in her hands. It would finally have its use, but not for the use she would’ve liked for. The contents were still as holy as they were in Soho.

“Good evening, O’Deorain,” he greeted through rancid teeth. 

“Good evening,” she greeted in return, not turning around to look her enemy in the face, 

She had temporarily won the fight and sabotaged her enemy’s entrance back onto Earth.

Disheveled, she hurried to her car as the storm appeared and roared through the clouds. She turned the key and made the engine roar. She drove to the West End as if all of Hell was after her, and if she counted correctly, they were.

She drove purely from muscle memory. She thought of Angela, how she needed her to get the plan going perfectly to stop Armageddon. When she arrived, the shop was aflame. Her heart dropped into the pit of her stomach as she stopped the car and made her way through the firemen whom were discussing how to attack the fire has efficiently as they can.

“Hey, are you the owner of the building?” a fireman shouted at her.

“Do I look like I own an art gallery?” she shouted in return.

“I wouldn’t know about that M’am. Y’know the youngsters and wearing all black for art’s sake. It’s symbolic.”

_ Ugh. _

The handle was hot as she pushed through the doors. “Angela? Angela!”

There was no answer. Only the sound of glass frames cracking and paper burning. 

“Angela! Where are you?” she screamed into the room. It was hot, very hot. There was no body, as there would never be. She would have disappeared into dust. “They killed you! Those bloody bastards!”

The window was smashed in, and a strong water jet was placed. Unfortunately, it hit her right in the chest. Her glasses flung off her face and into the flames; burning like the rest. Her purple and yellow eyes were the tiniest of slits. She fell onto the floor and for a moment just laid there, hoping that the flames could take her too. 

They had come a long way, she wasn’t going to give up just yet. She could redeem herself.  


As she raised to her feet, she noticed one book that was barely damaged. It was the book the young woman with the long black hair forgot in her car. She brushed off the ashes and placed it in her coat.

The shelves began to collapse and in no time, the roof began to fall over her.

The firemen had called if the ambulance was on their way, as they might have a body to recover. 

Moira walked out of the building unharmed by the flames. Her suit was wet, and her hair stuck to the sides of her face. Her eyes were alarming and a fireman did a quick sign of the cross.

She ignored the men who said that she should rest and wait for the ambulance to arrive. She ignored them and went straight to her car. 

She had no choice to go to Tadfield without Angela. 


	20. unheavenly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some demonic magic of her own.

Angela had arrived in Heaven; discorported from her body.

She never enjoyed being there, it was like walking into an empty underground parking lot, except it was white, and unnecessarily bright. Her Heaven clothes, she called them, were a pristine clean white. She hated the outfits; they lacked character. She tugged at the buttoned up collar. It felt a tad too tight around her throat.  


She had to find a way to get back on Earth. But how? 

“Angela! Come get your uniform.” An angel called out. He was standing at a desk, waiting for her to come to him. She walked on the marble floor. Her oxfords made an echo in the empty space.  


“Oh no! No no no! I am a tad early, I still have some things to do on Earth.” She pulled her sleeve and looked at her wrist, which usually had a gold watch but it was bare. The angel in front her only scribbled down her name on his list.   


“Guardian of the Eastern Gate, Angel of Mercy,” he pronounced her title and function. Another angel presented her with her new uniform. “It says here you have a staff.”

She gulped, trying to look around for an exit.  “Listen, if you could get me back to Earth, it would be splendid,” she tried to stall. He stared at her; waiting for her to answer to his first observation.  


At the corner of her eye, she noticed the Earth floating in the middle of the space. 

It displayed the atmosphere and the clouds that caused storms and hail. Time seemed to move much slower as it rotated at an angle. She drifted in its direction. She found London, hidden under a cold front and dark clouds. 

“If demons can possess someone, an angel can too.” she mumbled to herself. The guard was shouting at her, but she wasn’t listening. She put her finger on the country and she got sucked into a vortex.

She entered the body of a senior-aged strong man. 

“Mr. Wilhelm?” she asked. It was an interesting feeling being in a man’s body. 

“Dr. Ziegler?” he asked. He was in the middle of cooking himself lunch. He wasn’t too bothered by it. He saw her in his mind. It was a warm feeling, as if he was being protected. Nonetheless, he wasn’t expecting to be politely possessed before.

She sighed and explained to him her dilemma as clearly as she could. He did not completely understand but he was polite and offered a helping hand.

“I would be honoured to help you on your glorious quest to Tadfield!” he roared. 

Mr. de Kiuper was in the other room. He was still looking down at his hands in madness. He had exorcised a demon without any of his special weapons. When he heard the voice in the other room, he walked in.

Angela, of course, was not in the mood to be arguing with him, but he was going to be made useful. She told him to pack his best Witchfinder weapons. 

He was afraid of her. She was truly one of the most powerful witches he has ever met in his career. He had dealt with all kind of witches. Many of them only able to execute the simplest spells of hexes. Only a few had been difficult, but Angela Ziegler has proved herself to be on a whole different level. A true possession. She must have made a deal with the devil to be able to possess another human being.  


He agreed to follow her. She can bring him to other witches. Perhaps, the head witch. Finally, he could reach the peak of his career. What a heroic affair. No more witches in England.

“I don’t assume you can go a little faster,” she said as they peddled down the street on their two-person bike. It was going to take hours, even with the mens’ stamina.

“I’m going as fast as I can my lady,” he breathed. 

She debated with herself shortly if she should intervene more than she already has with the two men. It was an emergency and she was going to need her powers if she was going to get their in time. 

“Mr. Wilhelm, Mr. Kuiper, hold on tight! Hope you aren’t afraid of heights!” she lifted the bike with all her might and they flew towards Tadfield. 


	21. satan's daughter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end is near.

Her Rolls-Royce was floating only centimeters off the ground as she arrived at the airbase. Ablaze; her vehicule made all kinds of noise and made its own little chimney of black smoke into the sky. Moira’s face was stained with soot and in her hand, she carried her gear stick; a souvenir.

The  _ bloody  _ car made it. It broke her heart to see that car go. Ninety-years and not a scratch nor a dent. The car was custom made down to the thread on the leather seats. It was her most prized possession. She heard it falling to pieces behind her but she didn’t dare look. She didn’t want to shed a single tear in front of a crowd.

“Moira!” Angela shouted as Mr. Wilhem. It took her by surprise that Angela had chosen such a big tall man as her human. 

“Good evening,” she fixed her coat and her overall appearance. Might as well face the end of the world with style. “Nice beard Angela.”

The soldier believed he had seen it all, being part of the army and all but the flaming Rolls-Royce was new. It was too strange, but remained firm on not letting the entourage enter. 

Moira groaned as she lost her patience. Armageddon wasn’t going to wait for them. Before the demon could snap her fingers to transport him to a new location, she heard a snap from beside her. 

“Forgive me, I’ve lost my patience. Just hope I sent him somewhere nice,” Angela spoke through Mr. Wilhem. They quickly made their way into the base and onto the runway.

There stood the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Standing menacingly tall and charged up to their maximum strength. 

“Hana!” Angela shouted. 

The Antichrist was a little girl. She was small but stood confidently before the entities. She had long straight black hair and striking dark eyes. She wore a pink pinafore and a white t-shirt. Her old white sneakers were stained with grass along with her pink knee high socks. 

She was not alone. Beside her stood her friends: 

Brigitte, the tallest child of the group, freckles all over her face with dark reddish-brown hair. Her red corduroy overalls were ripped at the knee. Her yellow t-shirt hung loosely on her arms. 

Lucio, a dark skinned boy with long dreads pulled back with a green scarf. He wore headphones, and from where the angel stood. She swore she could almost make out the beat. 

Lena, the shortest of them, had unruly, messy brown hair, and the brightest orange tracksuit one can imagine. 

Hana Song was surprisingly calm.

“We’ve got to kill the child,” Angela spoke as Mr. Wilhelm.

“Oh no, Dr. Ziegler, I am not going to help you kill a child,” he said to her. Moira did not want to do it either. They argued among themselves on who was going to kill her.

Their argument distracted the Antichrist. Hana turned around and could not comprehend why there were two voices coming from the same throat.

“Hey! Two people in the same body is weird. You should get your own body,” Hana told them. Angela felt her body separate from Mr. Wilhelm’s body. It felt odd. She was much lighter. She tapped her physical body. She was relieved to have it back.

One by one, the children defeated three of the Horsemen with the use of Hana’s powers and imagination. Angela and Moira stood there in awe, as they did not have to lift a finger, yet, to get one step closer to stopping Armageddon.

Death came last, in all its glory. He was, after all, the inevitable one.

“This is all a game. It’s not real. I am the Hero, and I will defeat the final boss,” Hana said to Death. 

He screeched and evaporated into the wind. 

“Well, that’s over,” Angela breathed. She held her breath for the entire scene.

“Far from it,” Moira told her. “One might believe that wars start because a politician gets shot, or missiles are flown to the wrong country, or robots grow a mind of their own and start going after their creators. It starts with two sides, who absolutely despise each other and will do anything to destroy each other. Erm, I apologize for my ignorance, but what is your name, young child?”

“Hana, she began. “Hana Song, or D.Va!” she flashed a heart with her hands.

“What the hell is going on here?” Amelie came running with Ashe not too far behind her. Amelie looked at Moira and Angela. “You two stole my book! When you hit me with your car.” 

Moira went into her coat and pulled out the book.”This book?” She tossed it to Amelie, who caught it before it hit the ground. 

The dark clouds in the sky only got darker and the ground under their feet trembled. The humans back away as the ground cracked and lightning hit the ground. Moira knew who was coming for a visit, and she took a few steps back. 

“She’s here,” Moira breathed.

“You don’t think…” Angela began. Archangel Gabriel appeared out of lightning. He took a moment to dust off his shoulder. Angela made sure her own attire was in presentable condition. Next to him was a woman with a mohawk. Her lips were painted black. They gave each other a short nod of acknowledgement.They prefered to keep their meetings as short as possible. 

“Oh Lord Sombra,” Moira gave a nervous bow. Angela can only nervously grin at Gabriel. His face was very strict. Together, they walked towards Hana. 

“Hana Song,” Gabriel greeted as he knelt down to be closer to her height. . “Hi, my name is Gabriel. Nice to meet you. While I appreciate what you are trying to accomplish we cannot let this temporary inconvenience get in the way of The Great Plan. Armageddon will need to happen, now.”

“Whatever _the Plan_ ,” Sombra started, because she wasn’t going to let Heaven choose the adjective to it. “The Plan must go on, and the decision of how it will go on, will happen now. It is your destiny, it is written.” 

“So from what I understand, you two want to start a war to see who’s got the best team. You want to destroy the forests, the sea, the bunnies, and so you can fight your problems away?” the little girl questioned. 

“It’s more complicated than that, the Earth was created for this moment, it-” Gabriel started. Sombra rolled her eyes. Gabriel was going to lecture the young girl like a pastor. Sombra had no time for either of this. She had an army to lead, and they surely won’t be led if Gabriel stalled. 

“Listen kid, you start Armageddon, you get to win the game. You will rule the world. Wouldn’t it be cool to rule the world?”

“Winning the game is fun, but I don’t want to rule the world. “ Hana began severely. “You created men, and men brought us here. Oil in the ocean, the Amazon is on fire, the bees are dying…” 

“Men are the worst,” Sombra agreed. Gabriel grew impatient.

“But, things are changing, the hole in the ozone is healing. We are evolving. And who would want to look after a bunch of humans. I can’t even get myself to clean my own room. I have all the world I want,” she firmly continued. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m going to pass on the responsibility.”

“You can’t just  _ refuse _ . It’s who you are. It is written in The Great Plan! Things have to happen like this, and the choices have already been made for you,” Gabriel asserted.

“Rebellion is cool, but there is a limit to rebellion,” Sombra said, hoping she can get through to the girl without sounding too much like an adult.

“I’m not rebelling against anything! I am just pointing out how things are. If you stopped messing with people and having them fight, maybe we can think a little clearer. Not saying that they would,” argued Hana. “They might.”

“That makes no sense! It is in your genetics! You can’t go against the Great Plan!” the archangel argued in return as he lost some of his patience.

Hana pondered. She didn’t know what to do next. The darkness whispered in the back of her head that yes, she should agree, that she is a part of The Great Plan. The world will be hers to control and morphe to her desires.

Angela had spent the time thinking of a plan. Something simple but effective.

“Excuse me!” she interrupted Hana’s thoughts. The angel walked over to Hana’s side. Moira was curious as to what her plan was, but she also wanted to pull her back and tell her to be quiet. “Pardon me. This Great Plan, is it the Ineffable Plan?”

“What?” Gabriel and Sombra asked at the same time.

“Well, we’ve been talking about The Great Plan, but is it the Ineffable Plan as well?” Angela asked again.

“Yes! It’s the same thing!” Gabriel answered, uncertain. 

Moira chimed in from where she stood. “Sure, The Great Plan is only part of the Ineffable Plan. Can’t be certain that the current events lead into the Ineffable Plan as well.”

“It is written down!” Sombra snapped.

“Probably written somewhere else, in bold, where you haven’t read before,” continued Moira.

“Possibly just a test for you two, _mhmm_?” Angela added.

“God does not test his  _ loyal _ subjects,” Gabriel asserted. 

“Where have you been for the last millennia?” Moira smirked as she joined Angela by her side. 

Everyone stood in silence and looked at Hana. 

In the distance, the only thing that moved were the waves of heat one would see when the asphalt absorbed the sun’s rays. 

She said, “I don’t understand why it matters that it is written down if it involves people.”

Angela quietly tugged at Moira’s sleeve and whispered in her ear, “I think I know what happened. She was left alone all these years. She didn’t adapt either to the Greater Good or Evil. She’s ordinarily human.”

It made perfect sense.

Gabriel cleared his throat to ease the tension. “Give us a moment.”

Sombra and Gabriel stepped away a few meters with their backs turned. “I need to go back upstairs,” pointing towards the sky, “and see with The Almighty.”

“And I need to report with the big guy downstairs. I don’t think he’ll be very happy with this,” Sombra said. She looked at Moira, “Don’t think you’re getting off easy, _O’Deorain_.”

“And I’m going to have a good word with you Angela,” Gabriel scolded. 

They disappeared back to their respective lairs. Everyone could breathe, except the angel and the demon. Angela had quickly gone to pick up her staff, which turned into an old brass and was cold to the touch. 

“I guess we should start getting ready,” Angela told Moira. Angela had her staff, and well, Moira had her gear stick.

“I don’t think you two should worry too much. I know all about you two,” Hana grinned. She looked over to The Them. “I brought them in a mess. They’ll forget about this. It’ll be like a dream, in which you remember less of it as the day goes by.” 

The ground began to shake again, knocking them back and forth. Moira felt a sudden pain in the pit of her stomach, and she fell to her knees. Angela dropped to her knees in worry, putting her hand on Moira’s back.

“They told him. They told Her Father,” Moira choked. 

Angela stared at Moira and back to Hana with wide eyes.

“What does that mean?” Amelie asked, holding onto Ashe as she was losing her balance as the ground rocked her back and forth.

“Satan himself is coming,” Moira explained. She got back on her feet with Angela’s help. 

“Everyone, stand back,” Angela shouted. She looked at Moira who could tell by her face that she wanted to push further, she wanted to fight. “There are humans here, we cannot let anyone get hurt.”

“I admire your stubbornness Angel, especially, during a time like this,” she complimented. “Do you think we’ll be able to defeat Satan?”

Angela tightened her grip on the staff. “Worth a shot.”. She gave her staff a quick tap on the ground and it lit up in all its golden fiery glory. “Been a while I’ve handled it,” as she twirled it.

It was worth a shot. What did they have less to lose? Moira thought. They couldn’t get into any more trouble than they were already in. If they survived, she would have to face Sombra anyways and the punishment she had planned for her. It felt kind of liberating. She could do worse.

At the same time, their wings tore hole through their coats. Angela had large fluffy white wings and Moira had black wings, much more well-groomed. They stretched them out as wide as they could. 

“Six-thousand years,” Moira said as he cracked her neck. She remembered the last time she spread her wings; right before she landed on Earth.

“The Good Old Days,” Angela sang as she flapped her wings.

“Not really,” Moira replied in disgust. 

Angela grinned at Moira’s little bit of humor. “If we don’t get out of this alive, I have always known that there was a little bit of good in the depths of your heart.”

“Yeah, right,” Moira cleared her throat, not wanting to admit she was a little bit right. “And, I have known, all this time, that you were someone worth acquainting with.”

“Hana, you are in charge of reality right now. You can change things to your desire,” Angela told  her. She offered her hand and Hana took it. Moira offered hers as well, and she took it.

“I’m scared, I am just a kid,” she shuddered.

“Don’t be, whatever you choose to do, we’ll be right here, beside you,” Moira comforted.

Satan ripped through the ground. He looked exactly as one would expect Satan to look like, except perhaps the size of a mountain. He had huge curled horns on his head and bat wings. His skin was a deep, blood red.

“Where is my rebellious daughter?” he growled. 

Hana pulled them with her as they stood merely meters away from him, enough that they felt the heat of his breath on them. Angela squeezed Hana’s hand and glanced over at Moira.

They exchanged a single little smile, as if it may be their last time seeing the other. 

“You aren’t my real father. You never came to my birthday parties, or helped me beat a boss level in Legend of Zelda. You never taught me how to ride a bike or helped me with my math homework,” she shouted.

“What did you say?” he boomed, shocked from her reply. He moved closer to them.

“I said,” even louder “You are not my real father!”

Satan was being pulled back to Hell. The wind began breaking out of the clouds and soon, there was a peaceful still. Angela clenched her chest as she let go of Hana’s hand. Moira removed her sunglasses to look at the sky. It was clear. Not a cloud left. 

“Hana!” a man called out. He had white hair and a blue jumper. He ran towards her. She turned around and sniffled. She had no energy left in her. He picked her up and hugged her tightly. “What trouble were you getting yourself into?”


	22. the night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela has no place to stay the night.

On her watch, the seconds ticked down the final minute before midnight. Angela and Moira had been sitting on a bench at the bus stop, waiting for the last one to arrive to bring them back to London. The rest of the group went on their merry way back; a bit confused to why they were standing in the middle of an army airport.

“I should ask the driver to drop me off at the shop,” Angela sighed, exhausted from the day. She pulled her hair out of its hair tie, releasing the tension from her head. 

“Angela, your shop burnt down, remember?” Moira replied softly. She watched Angela’s heart drop into the bottom of her stomach.

“I remember,” Angela breathed, on the brink of tears.

“You can stay at my flat tonight.” Moira instantly offered. 

Angela shook her head as she bit her lip to try hold back the flood of emotions. “I shouldn’t, my side wouldn’t like that, more than they already don’t like me communicating with you.”

“You don’t have a side anymore. We don’t have a side anymore.”

“Right,” said Angela as she pushed her bangs behind her ear. She sniffled and looked at Moira. Her hair was disheveled with some ash mixed in. Her suit was a little bip lopsided; missing the first button to reveal a freckled chest. She was still there, sitting next to her. She could’ve teleported back to her apartment if she really wanted to. 

She smiled, “I guess, I’ll stay the night.”

Angela never stepped into Moira’s apartment. It was quite jarring and cold compared to her studio. There was a scent of botanicals and humidity in the air that she wasn’t accustomed to. The ceilings felt like they went to Heaven. She politely took off her shoes and set them where they weren’t in the way.

“You can give me your coat Angel, I’ll hang it up,” Moira offered as Angela unbuttoned her beige trenchcoat. The floor was quite cold and Angela wished for her slippers. “Make yourself at home.”

That would be difficult. Moira snapped her fingers and lit the lamps, which gave a soft white glow throughout the halls. She admired all the plants and their greenery. She gave a long enough yawn that the corners of her eyes teared up. She should be getting to bed.

Moira miracled some essentials so she can be comfortable. She started the tea kettle on the stove and prepared a cup with some camomille. 

“Hope you don’t mind,” Angela spoke. Moira had been loitering in the direct sight of the bedroom as Angela wanted to change into pyjamas. Moira waved and went to her office.

Angela reappeared in a beige t-shirt and flannel pants. She miracled her fuzzy slippers and styled her hair in two little buns on the top of her head.

Moira’s heart almost burst as she looked absolutely adorable. 

“Moira, please, continue on with your evening. I will be quick,” Angela shuffled over to the sink in the bathroom. She found the white brush in the cup and brushed her teeth. 

Moira rarely slept, sometimes she was up all night with her thoughts. When she did sleep, it was to forget and to indulge in the darkness temporarily. It was quiet, and peaceful.

Angela brought her cup of chamomile with her to the bed. She held it in her hands. She hasn’t mentioned to Moira that she found the room a little chilly. She would prefer to not get  _ too _ comfortable.

“Are you coming to bed?” Angela asked. Moira had a large king-size bed draped in luxurious black sheets and a thick wool blanket that gave the perfect amount of weight and warmth. 

Moira’s brain stopped producing complete thoughts. The idea of sharing a bed with the angel was almost too much to handle. “I don’t sleep.”

“Oh, well, I must thank you greatly for the splendid tea. Goodnight Moira.”

“Goodnight Angel.”

When Angela awoke the next morning, the world felt different, but she couldn’t put her finger on exactly what just yet. She felt something move on the bed. She turned and saw Moira, asleep on the other end.

She quietly got dressed and made her way out of the apartment. 


	23. punishments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moira and Angela face their punishments.

Hana had reset the world. They figured that out at brunch.

They also came up with their plan to deceive their respective superiors when it came to their punishments for going against The Great Plan. Figured that it would come at any time, they promptly put words into actions. 

Angela, now in Moira’s body, had taken her coffee to go. She was not used to how tall and lanky she was. She tried keeping her steps rigid but suave at the same time. More difficult than anticipated when she was half a meter farther from the ground. 

Moira, in Angela’s body, cursed the angel for not wearing more comfortable shoes. She shoved her hands in her coat’s body and found a mint. Angela’s shop was miraculously untouched when Moira went to visit. The Rolls-Royce sat in its respective parking spot; without a scratch.

As they walked through the park, they kept a look out for any suspicious activity or people.  


“How’s the shop?” she spoke lowly, sipping on her coffee.

“Like it was never touched. How’s the car?”

“In perfect condition.”

“Did you hear anything from your people?”

“Not a peep. And yours?”

“Nothing. Curious.”

Angela noticed a black figure standing in the grass in her blind spot. She turned and saw a ghostly grim reaper reach out a hand to them and then dissolve into the wind.

“That’s a very bad sign,” she turned around. Her body, with Moira in it, was gagged and tied up by angels. She tried to scream but the white tape prevented any sound from coming out. 

“Oh no! Let her go!” Angela shouted, in Moira’s body, and tried to go after her.

“Not so fast  _ O’Deorain _ !” she heard a voice behind her and she was hit with a metal object. She fell and her cup of coffee flew several feet in front of her. Her vision was blurred and her head couldn’t stay still. She tried to get up but her head and body refused. Her vision turned black.

Moira examined the space cautiously around her. It was bright, too bright. The white marble floors looked like they went on forever. The windows gave a beautiful view to a sea of clouds. Oh, how Heaven had changed for the worse.

They had tied her up tightly to a wooden chair with white fabric. There was no room for any movement. 

“Angela! Glad that you made it,” Gabriel shouted. She was in no mood to smile back to Gabriel but she forced one. 

“Glad to see you too, Gabriel,” she hissed. She never liked him, even when she was an angel herself. She can remember clearly that he was there when she fell. 

“That’s the spirit! Now, we’re just waiting on our new associate,” he announced. She cracked a little grin. The associate was a fellow demon. What was his name? Jamie? Scoundrel, would be a better name for him. He lit the fire pit and Gabriel waved him away.

“Stand up,” he ordered her as he let the ropes fall from her wrists. She stood up as instructed and looked at the fire. She felt the heat from where she stood.

“Your act of treason: manipulating the outcome of the Great Plan. The plan was to finally put an end with our differences with the opposite side.”

Moira could write a novel on what they had in common instead. They were no better than hellhounds. It took all her willpower to not say anything out of character. 

“I wish it didn’t have to come to this.” Gabriel said, on a lighter tone. His little grin boiled her blood. 

“It doesn’t have to, and yet, here we are,” she slipped with an accent that was foreign to Angela’s tongue. “Such flawed morality.”

“Don’t you _ dare  _ talk to me about morals,” he replied sternly. Moira stood tall and unimpressed with his attitude. “Get in the damn fire.”

“With pleasure,” she grinned and stepped in the fire. It was hot, but nothing that she wasn’t accustomed to in Hell. She started Gabriel in the eyes and exposed the sharpest teeth and a long black tongue. 

She shook fear into his heavenly bones. He gulped as he tried to stay compared. Moira knew she had executed the plan perfectly.

Meanwhile in Hell, Angela was brought to an almost theatrical room. She stood in front of Sombra in her throne and on the stage was a porcelain white bathtub. The dirty glass had an audience on the other side. The room was cold and humid. She expected Hell to have more fire.

“Traitor. Killing your own kind. Your punishment will be worse than the act itself,” one of Sombra’s assistants spoke from a piece of paper. He smelled heavily of waste and ash. It almost made her gag. 

Angela spoke, “Throw me in a tank with electric eels?” She had no idea what he was talking about, or what Moira actually did for the upcoming punishment. 

“No,” he chuckled. “You may come in!” he shouted.

She listened to the footsteps of someone walking down the hall and up the stage. The woman was dressed in long pristine white robes and a golden aura of light. Angela watched Ana bring a glass pitcher of water. 

“Oh Ana,” Angela whispered to herself. Ana presented them with the pitcher to pour themselves into the tub but they refused, wanting to stay as far away from it as possible.

“Is that Holy Water?” Angela asked.

“Only the Holiest,” Ana replied as she began to pour the endless amount of water into the tub. I made the other demons whisper among themselves. She only stopped when the water hit the edge of the tub. She quickly left the room.

Angela was almost relieved that it was only going to be Holy Water and not run the seven circles of Hell. She gave a mischievous smile. She was in a demon’s body, as a demon, in Hell. She might as well make a show out of it. 

“Mind if I take off my coat? It was quite the purchase,” Angela asked kindly. They were all nudging her to get on with it and step into the bath. Angela calmly removed her coat and placed it neatly on the ground. She unbuttoned her shirt and kicked off her shoes. She removed her black jeans and set her sunglasses aside. 

“I guess it’s time to say goodbye, and good riddance,” she bowed before she entered the tub, pushing some water to go over the edge and leak onto the dirty concrete. The water was lukewarm but quite refreshing as it soaked her underwear. 

The audience gasped as she sat comfortably in the bath. She even took some of the water and ran it through her styled orange hair into something a little more wild. With her wet hand, she drew a little heart on the window in which the rest of Hell watched her execution. They shrieked in horror.

“This is quite lovely,” she announced, putting water on her shoulders and on her neck. She leaned on the edge of the tub with a big smile on her face. “You may be wondering, if she can do this, I wonder what else she can do.”

They were getting rowdy, and Sombra was getting nervous. “Let’s not cause a riot. She’s gone native.”

“I’ve returned to collect-Oh my,” Ana returned with the jug. She was stunned by the scene; she thought it was meant to go quickly and quietly.

“Oh dear Ana, would you mind miracling me a bath towel?” she sang. Ana did as asked and brought her the fluffiest, whitest towel. “Thank you.”

Angela slowly raised herself from the water, making more puddles as she stepped out. “I think it would be in everyone’s favor if you just leave me alone, is that clear?” she asked as she placed the towel around her shoulders.

Sombra nodded in defeat.

“Thank you, dear.” she winked.


	24. feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They come to term with their feelings for each other.

“It was quite a thrill, to be in Hell,” Angela admitted as she sipped at her glass of red wine. They were back in their respective bodies and back in London. Angela had offered dinner at The Ritz and Moira had gladly accepted. 

Angela felt a weight lift from her shoulders. She felt like she was no longer constantly under surveillance by Gabriel or any of the other Archangels. She felt like she can now continue to be on Earth as a humble angel in disguise. She had many plans in her head to do now with all the free time. She can curate art shows again, or give history lessons at the University. Perhaps put her medical degree to good use. She could also enjoy waking up early and go to her favourite coffee shop.   


Moira felt at ease. The constant buzzing in her brain had stopped and there were no longer assignments to do against her will. She no longer had demons after all. She could finally stop running away. She did not have any idea of what to do next. She could start fresh and leave the underground scene. Maybe take those casting calls for modeling.   


“Oh really? Had a bit of fun?” Moira teased as she sipped on her simple cup of tea.

“It was absolutely mischievous,” Angela purred. “And Heaven? Like Old Times?”

“Worst,” Moira grumbled as she recalled Gabriel’s face when he told her to step into the fire. 

Angela picked up the remaining cream covered strawberry and offered it to Moira, who refused with a wave of a hand. She slipped it in her mouth and smiled in pure bliss.

“You have a little something…” Moira commenced as she wiped away a bit of whipped cream from the corner of Angela’s lip. 

Angela’s face turned a shade of pomegranate pink at her touch. She looked away, raising her hand to the waiter for the bill. Her heart had jumped in her throat and she couldn’t process her thoughts. Moira recoiled, trying to hide her own flushed face. She had acted out of place, and it frightened the angel. 

“I’m paying,” Angela proclaimed as Moira recovered from the incident.

“There is really no need,” Moira tried to take the little book from Angela’s hands. Angela pulled away from her reach.  


“My treat,” she argued as she miracled some cash by placing her hand on the cover without looking at the bill itself. Moira surrendered and thanked her for the tea, and she would return the favor at their next dining date.

It had gotten dark when they left The Ritz. Angela pulled her coat closer to her body, as it was getting closer to summer, but not quite close enough that the nights were warm. 

“Would you like a lift to the shop?” Moira asked as they walked to her car when she saw her shiver. “It’s quite chilly this evening.”

“No, it’s fine,” Angela refused. "Thank you for your offer."  


“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah,” she confirmed with a smile. Moira was a bit disappointed by Angela’s refusal. She hoped that Angela wasn’t still in the mindset they weren’t allowed to be seen together. 

She wished her well and they parted ways. 

It gave Angela time to her thoughts, and some prayers. She knew that He never really listened to her in the past but she prayed nonetheless. It became a habit. Maybe He was listening to her even less now that she no longer belonged on either side. Were her wings now a different colour? She hadn’t noticed a difference. Was she aging? It was too soon to tell.

She slipped the key into the door and walked in. She put her coat on its usual hanger and she put all the lights on with a single thought. She removed her shoes and placed them with the others. Was she to open the shop tonight? No. She didn’t feel like it. 

She had gotten used to evenings alone in her studio. She lit candles and put a vinyl on her record player to cancel out the silence. However, no matter how many distractions she put on, there was a new feeling she felt.

It went against everything she had ever known. 

However, it was everything that she would ever want.

Her face was warm just thinking of her.

Could she ask for forgiveness? Or was it too late?

She let her body drop backwards onto her bed. She stared at her ceiling as she thought of a plan of how to tell Moira that her heart had chosen her.

Across town, Moira sat in the dark of her office. Only the moon was allowed to cast shadows on the walls.

Her mind had only one thing on repeat, and it was Angela. How it had been six-thousand years since she had met the angel on the edge of the wall and fallen in love with her. She was different from the other angels. She was self-aware; she was honest. 

She thought of how perfect her hair looked in the sunlight and how soft her skin was. How she always found the good in everyone, and was not afraid to fight for what’s right.

Moira got up from her chair and circled her apartment. Angela’s mug was still by the unmade bed. She had left in the early hours in the morning before she awoke. It reminded her of many others who had once shared a bed with her. It tugged at her heart to see her gone that morning. She laid in bed, trying to keep her image of her there fresh in her mind.  


She never wanted to make the bed again.

Her shape was imprinted in the sheets.   


Her mind had drifted into temporary darkness as she thought that Angela would never love her. She was a demon, after all. She would tarnish those pure white wings of hers with her blackened hands. 

She picked up the white mug and threw it against the wall; watching it shatter onto the floor. She was doomed to eternity of loving someone who couldn’t love her back. 

She convinced herself that when God ripped her white wings from her back and the halo from her head, they wished the longest, most painful, punishment on her. She would rather go through the seven circles of Hell for one-thousand years than long for someone who would not return the sentiment.  


The walls around her grew taller as she felt smaller. 

Perhaps she should tell Angela that she needed another nap. 


	25. confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first day for the rest of eternity.

When it was time to get dressed, Angela’s hand automatically went to her usual beige suit. She noticed her choice and put it back on its hanger. She shuffled through her closet for something more casual. The assignments were over and there was no longer a need for her to be in her best outfit.

She pulled out a beige skirt, and a ruffle front blouse. She never got rid of them. She pulled on a pair of sheer tights and dug further into her closet for her favourite knee high boots. She brushed the dust off and zipped them up. 

In the mirror, she went to pull up her hair in its usual ponytail. She stopped and let her hair down. She simply brushed through it and left the elastic around her wrist. She felt renewed but out of place at the same time. 

The weather outside the shop was dreary. Perhaps she could bring Moira to the art museum, she thought, or for tea. She reached for her rotary phone and dialed her number.

Moira had not moved from her desk all night. She had been too busy thinking about how she would tell Angela that she would be taking a nap. She had not decided how long; forever was her rational choice.

The ringing had given her a fright. 

“Good morning,” Angela sang on the other end. Moira had lost track of time. How many hours or days has it been?

“Good morning,” she said in return. Her heart fluttering at the sound of her voice. She didn’t know how to tell Angela that she was like a cancer and every passing day that she could not love her was slowly killing her. 

On the other end, Angela curled the telephone wire around her finger. There were so many places she could take Moira. 

“Would you like to come to the Royal Academy with me?” she impulsively decided. “There is a new exhibition.” 

“I would be delighted. Would you like me to come pick you up?” Moira replied instantaneously. 

“If it’s not a bother for you.”

Moira jumped out of her chair and looked at the closest mirror. She fixed her hair and tried to make it as neat as she could. She fixed the collar of her black shirt. She debated between something more casual or edgy. She threw on her favourite leather jacket and ran down the steps to her car.

Angela barely hung up when she heard tires screech on the asphalt. It was her cue that Moira had arrived.

“Greetings, Angel,” Moira greeted as she stepped out of her car. The rain began to come down a little harder so she pulled the umbrella from the door. 

Angela locked the door to her shop and stood on the steps. She put her hand out to feel the water droplets. Moira quickly opened up the umbrella and held it over Angela’s head. The angel looked up at Moira’s face and locked eyes with her. 

She couldn’t help but grin at the feeling of seeing Moira there. 

Moira’s heart was so loud, she could barely hear the busyness around them.

“You look lovely,” Moira slipped; taking notice of the change of attire. 

“You look lovely as well,” Angela whispered in return. “We should get to the academy.”

“Right, after you,” Moira moved aside to let the angel walk to the car. 

The galleries were quiet, to be expected, Angela thought. They were at the end of a few shows. Her boots tapped against the marble floors, echoing her footsteps in the space. 

Moira had not stepped into the Royal Academy in what felt like centuries. She had been there for the grand opening. Angela had invited her. Most of the paintings and sculptures were unfamiliar to her. She came across a particular painting. It was not very large, and the gold frame showed its age. There sat a woman, with flowing blond hair and piercing blue eyes. Her curls were immatucate and there was a golden halo around her head, like a saint’s. 

“Curious,” Moira said to herself as she looked over to the angel a little further down the hall. 

Angela gazed at the large painting in front of her. It was only slightly gruesome, and heavily religious. Her eyes darted to the many faces. She noticed a sharp, dark figure that loomed over the characters. They were frightened by its presence. She studied it a bit more, and noticed the dark auburn curls that framed their face. Her hands were demonically long and black. It seemed strikingly familiar. She turned away from the painting to the tall, devilish woman in the other room.

It must be a coincidence, she thought.

Like magnets, they were pulled back towards each other. They found a bench in front of an even larger piece. It was glorious; a classic representation of rapture. It was overly dramatic to their knowledge.

“What now?” Moira asked.

They no longer had a purpose on earth. Well, at least temporarily. 

“One day at a time, I guess,” Angela replied. “We have eternity.”

“Eternity is a long time.”

“Yes, it is.”

Angela’s heart was in her ears.

Moira’s hands were sweaty. The silence was deafening. She swallowed the saliva that accumulated in her mouth. She had to announce her plan.

“Angela,” Moira began as she turned to her. The angel’s eyes moved from the painting to her. She was beaming and beautiful. “I can’t go on for eternity.”

“What do you mean, Moira?” Angela took hold of Moira’s hand. She searched for her eyes behind the sunglasses. She squeezed a little harder. 

“I cannot go on with you,” Moira stuttered as she pulled away. She hurried through the halls towards the exit. Her chest hurt. She couldn’t breathe. Angela’s face, full of pain and worry, would be scarred into her memories.

Angela did not understand what she meant right away, and then it clicked. She did not care for the sound of her boots on the marble, or the security guard calling after her for running in the gallery.

It was now or never.

“Moira! Please!” Angela hurried down the steps in the rain. Moira was not far. “Stop!”

The demon stopped in her tracks at the sound of her voice. The rain trickled down her face, covering up her emotions. She rather get it over with quickly, like ripping off a bandaid, or being thrown in a bath of Holy water. 

Angela stopped running. “Look at me,” she ordered.

Moira turned around slowly. Her hair sticking to the sides of her face. She removed her sunglasses to wipe her face from the rain. Her eyes were only the smallest of slits.

“I want nothing more than to spend eternity with you,” Angela confessed, as she tried to hold her tears back. “I love you, Moira. Don’t go.”

Moira’s heart resurrected as the rush of realization filled her face. She fervently pulled Angela into her arms. Maybe, just maybe, God listened to her prayers. 

Angela pulled on Moira’s jacket as she crashed her lips into hers. The demon’s lips burned but she did not pull away. She wanted her closer. She tasted the salt of her tongue and the rain. She could not concentrate on anything other than the whole feeling of her being pressed against her body. 

Moira cupped Angela’s face in her hands, feeling the softness of her cheeks against her thumbs. She emitted the radiance of every star she had ever created and she would make a new galaxy just for her. 

It felt like time had stood still when they finally pulled apart.

“I’ll always be by your side,” Moira promised as she wiped the rain from Angela’s cheek. “Your lips…” she said as she noticed how red they were.

Angela touched them. They were sensitive and hot. “Do not mind them. They will become accustomed shortly.” She folded her arms on her chest. Her blouse had soaked through and stuck to her skin. Moira pulled off her jacket and placed them on Angela’s shoulders.

On the drive back to the shop, Moira placed her hand on the space between them, palm up. All she wanted was to feel the angel’s skin against hers. For so long, she only daydreamed about moments like this. 

Angela was lost in her thoughts when she noticed the offering. She tried to dry her damp hand on her skirt before slipping her fingers in between hers. Much to her surprise, Moira brought her hand up to give her a kiss on her knuckles. The demon’s lips were still warmish to her skin. 

An angel’s perception of love was more than anything a human could feel. It embodied every cell of their being and powered them. Angela, being on Earth, had witnessed all kinds of love. It was her duty to spread as much of it as she could. 

They could love in return, but never romantically.

Especially not towards a demon.

A demon, on the other hand, could not love. There was not an ounce of love in their being. They thrived off sin and pain. Their hearts were stone cold. They were to bring misery to humans for their own venom. 

But there had been exceptions.

Moira was one of them.

The shop was lit by candlelight as they laid together in front of the little fireplace. Angela had made tea but it had gone lukewarm. 

“Do you think they care?” Angela asked as she laid on Moira’s chest.

“Would it matter if they do?” Moira returned. “We do not belong to them anymore.”

“I guess you’re right.” Angela sat up, looking down at the demon under her. Her yellow and purple eyes glimmered in the light. Her copper hair was out of place, and made a fiery circle around her head. Her shirt had opened slightly, revealing her freckled chest. 

She could not deny that she adored her more than anything she had before.

She leaned down to kiss her. The burning still lingered, but she had decided it would be the sacrifice she would be willing to make.

Maybe they cared, a little. 


	26. penance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela meets God.

Angela woke up in a vast white landscape. She was in her white robes and her wings sat heavy on her back. The light was almost too bright for her eyes. She felt like she had gone blind; staring into nothing but white. Her golden halo encircled her head and gave off its own golden glow. 

“Angela,” a voice boomed around her. Her heart vibrated and while the voice was new to her ears, her being knew it very well.

“God?” she asked as she stood up. She didn’t know what to start with. Was she in trouble? Was she being rewarded?

“No need to fear, my angel.”

There was a sense of relief in her chest. She had waited so long for this moment. 

“I am not afraid. I do not know where to start.”

“Do you understand why I brought you here?”

She thought about it shortly, and there was only one reason an angel like herself would meet God.

“Yes, I understand.”

At that moment, she closed her eyes and waited for the fall.

She waited, but felt nothing.

She opened her eyes, and she was still in the white space.

“You are not going to send me to Hell?” Angela asked.

God chuckled. “No.”

“But, I sabotaged The Great Plan. I stopped The War from happening. I went against my duty as your angel on Earth. I falsified the paperwork for centuries.” The weight of her sin became so heavy that it had to come out. “I fell in love with a demon,” she covered her mouth as the tears fell from her eyes.

“I know.”

“Forgive me,” she choked as she tried to wipe away the tears. “I love her.”

“You’ve been forgiven.”

“There is so much more I want to confess,” she cried as she felt the white space going dark around her. “Please, just a little bit more time.”

“Angela!” she heard Moira’s voice as she faded into darkness. She felt the bed under her as she opened her eyes to her studio. Her eyes were dry and her body was hot and damp with sweat. Moira’s hand stroked her cheek. 

“Angela, you were crying in your sleep,” Moira comforted. 

She was unsure if what she saw was just a dream or real. 

The demon over her was very real and her copper hair was in disarray. Her eyes reflected the sunrise that peaked through the curtains. Angela's heart fluttered with her gaze. 

“Kiss me,” Angela croaked with a dry throat.

Moira hesitated for a moment. She wondered if the angel was really awake or not. 

Her lips did not burn. The feeling was pleasant, as it was meant to be. 


End file.
